Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ Coil ❯ Adrenaline ( Chapter 4 )

 

“Coil”

Chapter 4: “Adrenaline”

Disclaimer: Teen Titans is owned by DC Comics and Warner Brothers, not a lowly college student like me.

Author's note: Now we're getting somewhere. Robin and Blackfire have met once again and already we can feel the sexual tension. In the meantime, the Titans are still trying to stop Slade from getting his hands on all four Apocalyptic Gems and so far they're coming up short.

While all this is going on, Robin still has to stop a corrupt businessman's drug dealing. How he intends to do that . . . you'll see it in this chapter.

To anyone who comes to review, I must kindly advise you against ordering me to update. You're all lucky I have enough time and creative energy to post three chapters in the space of three days. You'll get your updates when I finish writing and formatting the chapters. Until then, be patient.

Finally, I give great gratitude to artemisgirl for proofreading my chapters so that I don't make so many typos and to Darkmoon Knight for helping me plot each chapter.

Now let's go on with the story.

Out of costume but concealing his face with sunglasses, the young thief known as Red X read a newspaper that he'd actually paid for. After all, Red X could steal all the hell he pleased, but the young man underneath his mask had to abide by the rules of society.

That was why he liked wearing the super-powered combat suit so much. With the death's-head mask covering his face, he was free to do as he wished and give the finger to society . . . just like society had done to him throughout the formative years of his life.

Diverting his attention to the paper he was reading, Red X noticed the headline: “BOY WONDER GOES SOLO IN CITY OF ANGELS.” Intrigued, he read the article, discovering that Robin had been seen in Los Angeles in a black-and-red costume with a burnt silver robin emblem on his chest. Unfortunately, no one had a picture of him, as he had fled from the scene long before any reporters or photojournalists could reach him.

Finished with the paper, Red X folded it up and put it in his backpack, which was also where he kept his suit. Then he got on his motorcycle and drove to the nearest gas station. It was going to be a long trip to L.A. and he needed his tank at its fullest for it.

“Crap,” he mumbled once it was full. “I gotta pay $43.67 for this?”

“Yeah,” the gas station worker confirmed. “Sorry about that, kid. With all that's going on lately, we're getting short on oil.”

“You can blame that on our dumb-ass president,” Red X mumbled. He'd never liked that guy one bit and if he could have voted at the time, he'd have made sure that punk never got into office. “Stupid energy policies of his are letting the corporations screw us out of everything we've got.”

“Watch it, kid,” the worker advised. “He's our president and there's nothing we can do about it until the next election.”

Red X snorted and pulled out his wallet, proceeding to open it and remove three twenty-dollar bills. He gave the money to the worker, who gave him back sixteen dollars and thirty-three cents.

“Have a safe ride,” the worker said.

Red X chuckled and put his money in his wallet, proceeding to close it and put it in his pocket. He put on his helmet and revved his engine.

“Since when have I ever done anything safe?” he asked himself rhetorically before driving away from the gas station. Watch out, Robin. I'm coming for you.

In Los Angeles, in the crime lab hidden in his apartment, Robin hacked into the Los Angeles Police Department's files on the Hell's Dragons. According to the files, the Dragons were infamous for drug dealing, theft, vandalism, and a ruthless proclivity for violence.

Sick bastards we've got right here, he thought. Continuing to read, he discovered that until a few years ago, the gangs had all been murdering each other in the streets. Nowadays, there wasn't so much of that going on. However, witnesses had reported seeing “mean-looking guys” riding motorcycles in the streets in the night, as though they were racing against each other. This had led the police to suspect that the gangs had organized illegal street races. They had tried to send in undercover officers to infiltrate the races, but with no real success.

“If the police can't infiltrate these gangs, maybe I can,” Robin muttered to himself.

An hour after nightfall, the Hell's Dragons, the Street Serpents, the Asphalt Devils, and several other gangs met up at an isolated street in the city. It was time for another race.

Up until a few years ago, the assorted gangs of Los Angeles had been slaughtering each other in the streets. Killing each other was one thing, but when people who had nothing to do with whatever inter-gang dispute was taking place started dying, the leaders of the gangs had had enough. They came together and decided on a compromise, said compromise being that instead of killing each other in the streets and getting bystanders caught up in the carnage, they would settle their disputes by way of racing. Instead of whoever had the biggest gun deciding who was in the right, they'd decide who was right based on who was the best rider. Even though the street races were run by the gangs whose leaders had organized them, anyone with enough money - not to mention enough courage - could get in on the action.

The usual suspects - Hell's Dragons, Asphalt Devils, and Street Serpents, among others - positioned themselves at the starting line on their motorcycles, itching to race.

“Yo, who the hell's that guy?” an Asphalt Devil who was among the observers asked.

“Dunno, but from the looks of him, I wouldn't want to mess with him,” a Street Serpent answered.

“You freaking pansies,” a Hell's Dragon scoffed. “He's just a skinny little bitch hiding behind a helmet.”

The subject of their conversation was a leather-clad biker whose face was concealed by a black helmet with a black visor. His motorcycle was a sleek black beauty that looked like it'd conquer most racers.

“Hey,” the money collector said to the mysterious biker, “it's five G's to race.”

“My lucky day,” the biker replied in a voice that was muffled by his helmet as he pulled something out of the pouch on the studded leather strap around his right thigh. That something just happened to be a wad of one-hundred-dollar bills totaling five thousand dollars. “Here you go. Count it yourself if you doubt me.”

The collector counted the bills. “You're good. Get your bike to the starting line.”

The biker did exactly that.

Once everyone who was going to race was assembled at the starting line, a scantily clad girl stood in front of the racers with a checkered white-and-black flag raised over her head. She brought the flag down, signaling the start of the race.

The racers took off like bullets on either side of her, riding into the night like demon knights on steeds from hell.

The mysterious biker quickly took the lead with a few others trailing behind him. One biker kicked another into the path of an incoming car, causing a rather unfortunate crash and subsequent explosion of flames. A third biker slid between two passing SUVs to keep on racing. There were some bikers who couldn't handle the sharp turns and ended up crashing and burning . . . literally.

The mysterious biker jumped between the trailer and cabin of an eighteen-wheeler, miraculously avoiding being turned into street paste.

“That is one crazy son of a bitch,” one of the other surviving bikers mumbled as he continued racing.

Sensing that his position as champion street racer among his gang was in danger, an Asphalt Devil rode up to the mysterious biker and pulled out a pipe. The mysterious biker seemed prepared for this, as he simply kicked the Asphalt Devil's pipe-holding hand, cracking several bones in that hand. With only one working hand, the Asphalt Devil was at a severe disadvantage against the other racers.

“I can do this,” the mysterious racer snarled. “I can do this.” He accelerated, his bike now reaching a speed of 150 mph. The other surviving racers accelerated as well, reaching speeds matching or exceeding his. Unwilling to be left behind, the mysterious racer accelerated even further, reaching 180 mph.

Meanwhile, the audience noticed that the racers were reaching the finish line.

“Who do you think is gonna win?” an Asphalt Devil asked.

“Dunno, but I'd put good money on that new guy,” a Street Serpent replied.

“If you did, it looks like you're gonna be winning that cash,” the Asphalt Devil remarked as he pointed to the mysterious racer who seemed to be in the lead.

Indeed, the Street Serpent's conjecture turned out to be accurate, as the mysterious racer came back the winner, resulting in applause from some of the audience and boos and curses from other members of the audience. The mysterious racer didn't seem to really care for the cheers or boos or curses.

“You win,” the Hell's Dragons' leader said. “What are your terms?”

“I don't want anything,” the mysterious racer answered.

“So you just came for the money,” the Hell's Dragon's leader stated.

“I do need to put food on the table,” the mysterious racer stated as he wheeled his motorcycle off the racetrack. “However, I also came for the challenge. Thought I'd find it here . . . and I was right.”

“You're all right, kid,” the Hell's Dragon's leader remarked. “You know, there's a bright future for you if you get with the right people. By `the right people,' I mean the Hell's Dragons.” He gestured toward the scantily clad girl holding the checkered flag. “If you need anything, go see Candy. She'll take good care of you . . . as well as show you what you could have if you join up with us.”

“You sure about that, Ryuji?” a silky, arrogant feminine voice asked. “Somehow, I doubt she's woman enough for him.”

“Hey, Blackfire, how'd you like the race?” Ryuji asked, turning to the voice's owner.

“It was entertaining,” Blackfire replied with a smirk. She turned to the mysterious racer. “Why so shy? You afraid I won't like what I see once you take that helmet off?”

“Come on, man, we're all friends here,” Ryuji encouraged.

The mysterious racer removed his helmet, revealing wet-looking black spikes that hung in teal eyes set in a handsome young male face.

“Now why would you wanna hide that sexy face from me?” Blackfire asked flirtatiously.

The mysterious racer shrugged.

“Hey, what's your name?” Ryuji asked. “I can't keep calling you `kid' forever.”

“It's Alvin,” the mysterious racer replied.

“So you gonna join up with us?” Ryuji asked.

“Sounds good, but I just moved into town,” Alvin replied. “I'm gonna need time to get settled in first.”

“Sure,” Ryuji conceded. “I can wait till the end of the month.”

“I'll let you know by the end of the week,” Alvin answered.

“So, Al, what do you do for pleasure?” Blackfire asked, placing emphasis on the word “pleasure.”

“Outrace anyone and everyone I can and outfight anyone and everyone I can,” Alvin replied, blushing slightly. He then went silent for what seemed to be a long time, coming out of it only when Blackfire rapped him on the head three times. “Whoa. Sorry.”

“Where'd you go?” Blackfire asked.

“I had to shut up a very annoying houseguest,” Alvin replied. “Ever know anyone like that?”

“Yeah, my little sister,” Blackfire spat venomously.

“What do you got against her?” Alvin asked curiously.

“She's a naïve, annoying little bitch who goes on about the stupidest things,” Blackfire replied angrily. “It's a wonder she's survived this long.”

“Kid, I think it's a good idea you stop asking questions,” Ryuji advised. “See, she doesn't like her sister very much and anytime you get her talking about her, she gets so pissed off that she's ready to rip anyone near her apart. A lot of good men went to the hospital that way.”

“Ok,” Alvin commented with a whistle.

“So, Alvin, is racing and fighting all you do for pleasure?” Blackfire asked.

“Is there anything else?” Alvin asked.

Blackfire snorted. “Come on, Alvin. Give me a ride and I'll show you what pleasure is.”

“Sounds like fun,” Alvin answered as he got on his motorcycle and handed Blackfire his helmet. “Get on.”

Blackfire sat behind Alvin on his motorcycle but handed him his helmet. “You probably need this more than I do.”

“Ok,” Alvin conceded and put on the helmet. He revved up his motorcycle and rode into the night with Blackfire holding on to his waist. Underneath the helmet, Alvin blushed as he felt Blackfire's breasts pressed against his back.

Finally, they arrived at a nightclub, the name of which was emblazoned on the wall in blood-red neon: Sacrilege.

“You are legal, right?” Blackfire asked.

“I'm 18,” Alvin replied.

“I'm 20,” Blackfire stated with a smirk. “Ever dated an older woman before, Alvin?”

Alvin chuckled. “Is that a proposition, Blackfire?”

“Yes,” Blackfire replied unabashedly.

“All right, I'll be your boyfriend,” Alvin said.

“Or boy toy,” Blackfire added with a laugh as she and Alvin got off the motorcycle. Alvin removed his helmet and placed it in the helmet compartment of his motorcycle.

The two walked up to the door.

“ID,” the doorman ordered as soon as he saw Alvin.

“Relax, big guy,” Blackfire chided with a smirk. “He's with me.”

“Oh, hey, Blackfire,” the doorman greeted. “Sure, come on in.”

“Thank you,” Blackfire answered as she and Alvin walked into Sacrilege.

“Why's this club called `Sacrilege'?” Alvin asked.

“Look . . . and you'll see,” Blackfire replied.

Alvin looked and his eyes widened at what he saw. There were people dancing together, but they were dancing so close and their movements almost seemed to simulate sex. He saw closed doors all around the main room of the club. Trip-hop and trance music pulsed sensuously throughout the club.

“It's called Sacrilege for a reason, Alvin,” Blackfire whispered in his ear as her hand moved down his chest and stomach. “In here, we can flout the rules of society and while we are here we can do as we wish.” She rubbed her body against his. “What do you think, Alvin? Do you want that?”

Alvin shuddered, but whether it was in disgust or arousal or some bizarre amalgam of both was uncertain.

“What's behind those doors?” he managed to ask.

“Later,” Blackfire answered. “That's for later, when you're fully ready for what I can give you. For now, we dance.”

Alvin and Blackfire danced together, moving gracefully to the music. Blackfire's hips rolled sensuously as Alvin held her close to his chest. She smirked as she felt his arousal pressing itself against her.

“You like this?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Alvin admitted in a ragged whisper.

“Good,” she whispered as she reached back to stroke his hair. “I'm going to have a lot of fun showing you what it's like to be free.” She turned around in his arms and kissed him deeply on the lips. Alvin responded, pulling her closer to him and kissing her back ardently. After minutes of fervent kissing, Alvin broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

“Holy . . . I never . . .” he whispered in shock.

“Was that your first kiss?” Blackfire asked with a leer.

“Yes,” Alvin admitted.

“Well, you're damn good for a first-timer,” Blackfire complimented. “Makes me wonder just how good you'll be once we've taken things to the next level.”

The exiled Tamaranean was very pleasantly surprised when Alvin grabbed her by her delectable rear and pulled her into a heated kiss, one of his hands fisting in her hair. Blackfire ran her hands through his dark hair and kissed him back just as enthusiastically. After a few minutes, she broke the kiss and moved to kiss his throat, delighting in Alvin's soft, barely audible gasps of pleasure.

After some time, she broke away, sensing that the young man's mind would possibly collapse on itself if she kept going.

Later that night, Alvin - a.k.a. Robin - found himself in the bathroom of his apartment, taking a cold shower in an attempt to rid himself of his arousal. Despite the coldness of the water, the memory of Blackfire's lips on his, the memory of her leather-and-mesh-clad body against his, the memory of her voice in his ears promising him things he had never experienced before simply wouldn't go away.

He also remembered that in his moment of passion, the darkness dragon had taken him over briefly and kissed her with such intensity that it might have bruised a human woman.

“I want her,” he whispered.

Nice to see that you're finally getting in touch with your desires, the dragon whispered.

Shut up, Robin growled.

It's not so bad to desire a woman, the dragon hissed. I have known many women in my existence prior to being sealed inside your body, particularly in the biblical sense.

How am I supposed to fight her now? Robin asked. Every time I see her now, I'm going to remember what happened in Sacrilege and I'll have to resist the urge to throw her on the ground and . . . He didn't dare finish that thought.

Your mentor manages to resist his urges when he's around Catwoman, the dragon remarked. I can't imagine it's so hard for you to do the same. Did he not teach you anything about controlling yourself?

That's the hard part! Robin yelled. I don't want to control myself when I'm around her! When I'm around her, all I want is to pin her to the wall and kiss her until her lips are swollen! And it's wrong! It's wrong because I love Starfire, so how the hell can I desire the same person who did all those things to make her life miserable?

Desire knows nothing of loyalties, little bird, the dragon stated. All it knows is that it wants . . . and what it wants it will have. So it is with us. We want Blackfire. She will be ours.

Robin didn't respond to that, instead shutting off the water and drying himself off with a towel. He walked out of the bathroom in just a towel wrapped around his waist and into his crime lab, where he found his costume waiting for him. He dropped the towel and slid into the black-and-red suit, the seam in the back closing itself up as soon as he had donned it. He put on his boots, gloves, belt, and cape before completing the ensemble with his mask.

He walked into the antigravity lift and it dropped him down into the underground garage where he kept his vehicles. He got on his R-Cycle and revved it up, proceeding to drive through the tunnels until he reached the exit in the abandoned dam. He drove through that exit and leaped onto the streets of Los Angeles.

Ready to burn off some sexual frustration? the dragon asked.

Be quiet and let me drive, Robin growled as he rode into the night. Soon enough, he received a police bulletin about a break-in at a museum. For a few brief seconds, his spirits rose, although he would not admit why to himself.

What, hoping you'll run into Blackfire? the dragon remarked.

This time, Robin didn't answer the dragon at all, driving straight to the museum. The gems in the locator bracelet blinked brightly, signaling that an Apocalyptic Gem was nearby.

Maybe it's Slade, Robin thought. I'm looking forward to kicking his sorry ass for once.

Yeah, that's right, take out all that frustration on Slade, the dragon encouraged.

Robin turned a sharp right and found himself approaching the museum. He parked his R-Cycle and advanced toward the museum on the rooftops. He saw the skylight and noticed that one of the panels had been surgically removed, as though by a high-intensity laser or a very sharp blade with a very fine edge. Putting that aside, he dropped into the museum through the missing panel, landing silently on the floor.

He prowled the museum, feeling the locator bracelet blink more brightly and pointing him closer to the Apocalyptic Gem. According to the direction the gems were pointing in, the Apocalyptic Gem was dead ahead.

Robin walked up to a statue of the Greek God of War Ares with his sword raised to the sky. He also saw a blood-red gem embedded within the hilt of the sword. All eight gems embedded in the locator bracelet began glowing powerfully, sending a clear signal to Robin that the blood-red gem was an Apocalyptic Gem.

“The Gem of Red War,” he mumbled. “Figured it'd be with a god of war.” He climbed onto the pedestal on which the statue stood and reached up to remove the Gem of Red War from the sword.

“Didn't know you were into theft,” a familiar and hated arrogant digitized voice remarked.

Robin turned to glare at the masked thief. “Red X,” he snarled.

“Yeah, that's me,” Red X confirmed with a smirk in his voice.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asked.

“Stealing,” Red X replied. “I assume that's what you're here for, too.”

“Not like you,” Robin stated with a scowl. “If I don't get that gem, someone worse than me is going to get it and he'll be that much closer to starting the apocalypse.”

“Ok,” Red X remarked. “I'm sure we're gonna have to fight now, because I got someone who wants that gem and is gonna pay me cold hard cash if I get it for him.”

“And he didn't identify himself?” Robin asked.

“We spoke over the phone,” Red X replied. “Guy had this deep, scary purr for a voice. Like a big cat just waiting for the right time to jump on his prey.”

Slade? Robin surmised.

Red X threw six red X-shuriken at the Boy Wonder, who dodged all of them. While in midair, Robin pulled out six vaguely birdlike red-edged black shuriken and threw them at Red X, who teleported out of the way and reemerged behind him. He tried to karate-chop him in the back of the neck, but Robin whirled and blocked the chop.

The skull-masked thief planted his hand on the floor and sent a wave of scarlet electricity through it and straight at Robin, who jumped up to avoid getting shocked and kicked Red X in the head.

“Nice one,” the thief complimented. “I think you just gave me a concussion.”

“Good,” Robin spat.

“Would you believe that I actually missed you?” Red X asked.

“What?” Robin uttered in shock. Red X took advantage of that shock and kicked Robin into a nearby statue.

“Yeah, I did,” Red X admitted. “I had more fun stealing when it was you and me one-on-one than I did fighting the other Titans. They're not much of a challenge once you get down to it.”

Robin pulled out his Bo staff and pressed the hidden button that would expand it to its full length. This time, the staff sprouted a glowing red blade from each end instead of simply growing longer.

“Nice,” Red X remarked as the X's on his glove glowed brightly and that glow expanded into energy swords. “Let's dance, kid.”

The two black-and-red-clad young warriors came at each other, twin energy swords and dual-bladed lightsaber clashing against each other. Red X swung with one sword and Robin blocked with one end of his saber, but Red X swung with the other sword, forcing Robin to divert his attention from the first sword to the second and thus allowing the young thief to slash him with the first sword. Fortunately for Robin, the fabric of his costume was thickened modern chain mail and so it protected him from any serious injuries.

Robin retaliated by slashing Red X with both blades of his lightsaber, eliciting a cry of pain from the masked thief despite the protection his suit afforded him. Robin brought his blade down once again on X, who raised both swords in the shape of an X to block. The thief generated a blindingly bright flash of light with his blades, disorienting Robin long enough for X to slice the young hero's lightsaber in half and retract his swords long enough to punch him in the face.

“You're not a half-bad fighter, X,” Robin remarked as he spat out blood.

“Thanks,” X said. “I could say the same about you. This is the most fun I've had in a while.”

“Why are you doing this?” Robin asked. “If I'm right about your employer, then you'll be helping him get that much closer to ending the world if you give him that gem.”

Red X seemed to ponder that for a full minute.

“You serious?” he asked.

“Dead serious,” Robin replied.

“Fine,” Red X conceded as he pulled the Gem of Red War out of his belt. “It's yours.” He tossed it to Robin.

“How'd you get your hands on that?” Robin asked as he caught the gem and placed it in his utility belt.

“Snagged it while you were blinded,” Red X replied. “Hey, a good thief knows how to take advantage of an opportunity, even if that opportunity's only there for a few seconds.”

“What about your employer?” Robin asked.

“Bastard can kiss my ass,” Red X answered flippantly.

“If he is who I think he is, he's more likely to beat the crap out of you,” Robin mused.

“We'd better get out of here,” Red X replied. “I disabled the security cameras, but I'm not gonna stick around and wait for the police to show up to haul me to jail.” He fired an X-grapple through the missing panel of the skylight and it pulled him through and out. Robin fired his grapnel gun and followed the skull-masked thief.

“So who are you?” Robin asked.

“You wear that mask for a reason, right?” Red X asked.

“I'm sure you're gonna tell me that reason,” Robin replied as he and Red X raced across the rooftops to evade the oncoming police cars.

“If people knew who you really were, you'd end up dead,” Red X explained. “And it wouldn't be just you they went after. Everyone who's a part of your life when you're not wearing that mask would be in danger, too.”

“And that's the reason you don't want to show me or anyone else your face,” Robin deduced.

“No duh,” Red X rejoined. “As Red X, I've got a target plastered to my chest. I've pissed off a hell of a lot of people - you included - and pretty much every last one of them would like to see me cut down to size. When I take off that mask, I can go out without worrying about who's going to try to put a bullet in my head.

“You once said that I didn't care about anything but myself. That's because I only have myself to rely on. Everyone else is a potential enemy, although there are still a few people from my old life that I care about. Those people would be in danger if some very unsavory assholes were to figure out who I am.”

“Why don't you give it up?” Robin asked. “I mean, you could still join the Titans, either my team or Bumblebee's team, or just become an honorary Titan.”

“I don't do the hero stuff,” Red X answered curtly. “That's your job.”

“You could do it, too, if you wanted,” Robin continued. “If you really just cared about revenge on Chang, you'd have let me fall to my death and taken him and his goons on by yourself.”

“Starfire likes you,” Red X answered. “And I hate making beautiful women cry. Speaking of her, what are you doing away from the Titans?”

“It's a long and complicated story,” Robin replied.

“Aren't those often the best stories?” Red X responded.

Robin answered by jumping off the rooftop and landing before the R-Cycle.

“Dude, that is one sick bike,” Red X remarked after landing beside Robin.

“I know,” Robin answered with a grin. He got on the R-Cycle and put on his helmet. “Want a ride?”

“No, thanks, I'll find my own way home,” Red X replied.

The really funny thing about that exchange was that if not for the fact that both boys were in costume, anyone watching would have mistaken them for two ordinary guys hanging out.

Robin revved up his R-Cycle and rode into the night as Red X shot an X-grapple at a nearby ledge and swung away.

End Notes: In case anyone didn't really like Red X insulting the president, I only have this to say. Several people on FF.Net were allowed to post stories that involved characters bashing the French, most likely due to their refusal to help the U.S. invade Iraq. It wasn't right of them to do so and they probably offended a great deal of readers and fellow authors, but if they're allowed to do that, then why can't I voice what I think of our current president through a character?

Ah, poor Robin. It appears that the classic Bat-and-Cat Syndrome has set in. Blackfire's a criminal, he's a crime-fighter, and he can't help but want her. As an aside, I really pushed the T rating with that scene in the club, didn't I? In the meantime, he has to get in good with the Hell's Dragons if he expects to get close enough to the corrupt businessman he met in chapter 2. And what will Red X's presence in Los Angeles lead to? All this and more in the next chapter.