Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ Heroes ❯ Somehow ( Chapter 9 )

Blowfish: (eating Christmas cookie) Mmm…huh? Oh, it's you guys! Back for more? I thought so. Anyway, the waves of reviews are really awesome!

Rose: Beat those kids in the hall! Half of the reviews I got were freaking out about Dick. Don't blame you, he's in it deep. Starfire…hmm. Nope, can't give anything away right now.

Chimpy: …You don't even have anything planned.

Blowfish: YOU know that and I know that, but THEY don't know that.

Readers: …Umm, we do now.

Rose: Glad you liked the T-Code. Took me a while to think of that. And I love answering people's reviews! Reviews are a way of communicating with the author, and review responses are a way of telling you guys what us authors think of what you say. It's really useful.

TtitansFan: Star save him? Eh…as cool as it would be, it ain't in the cards right now. (Damn, that really would've been cool…) Mask! Holy crap, I didn't even think of that! I've been agonizing over a way to hide her identity. I guess the simplest solution is the best one, huh? (But GOD, I feel like an idiot.) Hope you like this chap.

Punky monkey: Thanks for all of the compliments, I appreciate them a lot! And perhaps you're right…

Taiba: This was a great winter break, yeah. Only downside? I had a science project to do! Only just finished it, whew… A button? YAY! I HAVE BUTTONS!

cRiTiC123: There'll be more here, don't worry! (It's mostly angst, but ah well…it'll get better!)

K9: That's about how I'd put it, yep.

TTJLFan: Yes, my cliffie was nice and evil…MWAHAHAHAHA! Pizza and cookies! GIMME!

TIGERGRRrr: Thanks!

Lauren1792: Glad you liked the last chap. Tips? Okay, I'll try my best:

This is something you probably already know, but you really need to stamp it into your brain while you're writing (I have to do so on a regular basis): Metaphors and adjectives are your FRIEND. Screw around with descriptions as much as you can until you think it sounds good. If you need to mess with a paragraph for an HOUR, do so. It'll turn out a LOT better, trust me. Take advantage of space to build suspense. Instead of:

Suzie went into the living room and she could feel the presence of some other being with her. She backed towards the wall, but ran into something much softer. She heard breathing behind her. She turned. Suzie screamed, but not for very long.

Do this:

Suzie went into the living room and she could feel the presence of some other being with her. She backed towards the wall, but ran into something much softer. She heard breathing behind her. She turned.

Suzie screamed, but not for very long.

It makes it a bit more interesting, doesn't it?

4. Never underestimate the power that is the one-liner.

5. Get creative with the way your characters speak. Do they have an accent? Don't be afraid to pile on the “ya's” and the “zis's” (“this” with a strong, foreign European accent, like German or French)

I can't think of anything else right now, but I will next chapter if you want. Sorry if it sucked.

Exiled-Knight: Yes, Nightwing action for all! Better than the last? Great, that's always what I hope for: improvement. And this cliffie will be resolved first thing, don't worry!

Catty Engles: Unfortunately, I've never seen Phantom of the Opera. I want to, though. Yep, corny and Robin go together. Starfire is kind of fun a little less naïve, isn't she? She seems like she would be really funny if she wasn't so damn confused all the time. Romance? No prob! It's gonna be laid on thick in these next few chapters (so is action).

Wave Maker: Three words: Yes, yes, yes.

Grumbumble: Thanks! Like I said, the T-Code was hard to do. I actually thought of the cliffie last minute—I was going to do the battle, but I thought, “Hey, he's cornered! This would be a great way to end the chapter.” And so, I did.

Chimpy: Angles? I didn't know this story had angles.

Blowfish: (jabs her) Shut up! They don't know that!

Grumbumble: It's kind of a pain doing two fics at once, but I don't mind—the only problem is, I can't ever think of ideas for the story I'm on!

A Pleasant Reader: Thanks. Yeah, school sucks. BBRAE DOES ROCK!

Eilian Rhoss: Thanks! Hope I updated soon enough…

dogearredangel13: Glad you like the story. I've heard that Dick joke a million times, and you know what? It's still funny as hell! I'm guessing you're a RobStar fan?

“talking” `thinking' flashback song lyrics (bold italics)

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans or “Float On” by Modest Mouse. (singing it Broadway-style) You think I own it? I DOOOOON'T OOOOOWWN IIIIIT! I WIIISH I DIIIIIID! But that's CARTOOOOOOOOOON NETWOOOOORK'S JOOOOOOB! It's so SAAAA—(readers smack Blowfish upside the head)

Readers: GET ON WITH IT, WE WANT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS TO NIGHTWING!

Blowfish: Sorry. Jeez. Anyway, here it comes! Chapter nine is here!

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“Shit.”

“Ya got that right, hero,” the man laughed. “Now, whaddya want? Shoot up your arms and legs and let you die of blood loss, or just pump yer brains full of lead?”

A cold, twisted lump formed in Nightwing's stomach. He had studied the room at least ten times in the thirty seconds since he had discovered this elaborate trap, but he could find no way out. He was stuck in quicksand and sinking fast.

Despite all of this, he knew he had to stay cool. “Or you could just let me go.”

“Now there's a concept. But ya know…” The man lifted his gun and everyone else followed his lead. “I've never been the type to negotiate. `Specially not with some dumb bird.”

“Aww, is someone ornithophobic?”

All of the mobsters looked around, trying to identify the source of this voice. Nightwing, however, knew the voice quite well. His eyes darted towards the shadow behind the leader, where he could see a distinct pair of glowing white eyes. He could hardly keep from grinning.

“Who's that?” the man yelled. “We'll shoot yer fuckin' head off!”

“Oooh, I'm so scared.” The voice laughed. “You can't even find me.” The man paused. He thought about what his superior had said during their briefing.

“Look, you bastards, you are not screwing this up. Now, we're thinkin' if Boss is right, someone else is gonna come and wreck the mission. If you hear someone talkin', but you can't see the little shit, just fire at the shadows. Trust me, it'll work.”

He spun around and looked at his own shadow, where a pair of white eyes widened. He shot off three rounds into the ground. When he stopped firing, the eyes were gone.

“Nice try, bringin' help. But you're dead now,” he snarled at Nightwing.

The vigilante twitched.

Everybody fired and the room went black. The strange darkness swirled thick like pudding and Nightwing was suddenly unable to breathe. He reached around frantically, trying to latch onto anything that could keep him from losing his balance. He was adept at holding his breath, but he found that this strange power was squeezing his chest, constricting his windpipe. On top of that, he couldn't see. The blackness was a vacuum through which no light could penetrate. He felt someone grab him around the waist and thrust him through the window.

Air! Glorious air rushed through Nightwing's lungs, making his head spin. Colored spots danced in front of his eyes. He took deep, gasping breaths, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he looked around, finding that he had indeed been moved. Looking up, he saw a cloaked figure standing over him.

“You okay?” Raven asked.

“I've been better,” Nightwing sputtered, sitting up. “That's a new trick. Nice.”

“I try.”

“So…how'd you know I was in trouble? Telepathy?”

Raven chuckled. “Nah, I can only do that close-range. I was coming to talk to you and I was taking a shortcut through the red-light district. Dumb luck. Idiot luck, really.”

“Mmm.” Nightwing shuddered at the thought of what might have happened had Raven not come. “So, did you want to talk about our mob problem?”

“Err…no.”

“Hmm?”

“Uhh…ah, this is gonna sound so stupid…”

“Raven…?”

“How do you do it?”

“Mmm?”

“You're a manager at an international corporation, you've attended all of the dinners that you need to for business, you're engaged to the love of your life, and somehow, SOMEHOW you still find time to single-handedly protect Gotham City. How the hell is that possible?”

“Uhh…that's what you came for? Advice?”

“Yes. I…I'm a two-bit reporter with a loose schedule, I run around that godforsaken city at all hours, and I still can't catch close to half of the criminals messing with it, orsit down to a nice dinner, or get close to eight hours, or spend more than five minutes with my friends, or have a boyfri—“ she cut herself off, blushing madly. “I just…maybe there's some trade secret all of the rest of the incognito superheroes haven't let me in on about how to have a personal life.”

Nightwing put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey. For one thing, I've been keeping Gotham relatively clean long enough that half of the guys I catch aren't even trying to break out of jail. You've been over there in that shit-hole for what? A month?” Raven let out a small smile.

“Also, I don't protect it single-handedly. Whether they like me or not, the cops are sort of helping me. And there's another big difference between us: I'm strictly a nighttime guy, and you're at it all the time. Heck, if only everyone knew how much I sleep in my office when no one's around! I'd be out of that building before you could say `utility belt'!” Raven chuckled.

“And as for Gar…” Raven reddened. “Oh, don't even act like it's not him. As for him, don't worry. You'll work it out.”

“How?” she whispered. Nightwing paused, looking thoughtful. Then he smiled.

“You love each other. You'll figure something out.” She shook her head.

“He loves Rae. Not Raven.” Nightwing grinned deviously.

“Well, I happen to know a green elf who still loves Raven. Quite a bit, actually.” Before Raven could say anything else, Nightwing fired his grappling hook to a nearby building and swung off from the roof.

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Gar was in a very bad mood. He had a splitting headache (made worse by his sensitive ears that picked up almost any sound), his agent was late, and the ever-decaying mound of rubbish that was his love life was being shoved in his face by nearby couples. He groaned and slumped in his seat. The café waiter asked him if there was anything he could do for him, and Gar decided to order a veggie burger to silence his grumbling stomach.

“Hey, fry-boy!”

Gar looked up to see a woman with brown curls smiling at him. His mind was blank for a few seconds, but then it finally came to him: She was the lady from the McDonalds that he had talked to a month ago. He was stunned that she remembered him, and told her so.

“I never forget a face,” she said. “Especially a famous one.”

“I'm flattered.”

“Heh, s'nothing.”

“You wanna sit down?” he asked suddenly.

“Sure.”

So she sat down and they started to talk. Gar learned that her name was Alison (and she hated it when people called her Ali), her favorite color was purple, she was a secretary at Leever Inc. (A/N: Anybody remember that name? Hmm? If you don't, go re-read that first chapter!), she was dating a sexy Puerto Rican man named Manuel, and she loved to go see plays and stand-up comedians, which was why she recognized him when they first met.

“But I bet you get that all the time,” she added.

“Yes, actually,” he laughed. “Sometimes I wish I didn't.”

“So…I've been meaning to ask… How's it going with the tomato?”

Gar paused, remembering the slightly embarrassing visuals he'd used to describe the state of his relationship with Rae. He blushed a bit, and she grinned.

“Good, eh?” Gar's thoughts suddenly flooded with his last encounter with Rae.

“Umm…no, not so good, actually.”

“Was my advice that bad?”

“No! It was fine, and it would have helped, but…she's…she's made her choice, I guess.”

“Oh…someone else?”

“No…let's just say she's very dedicated to her work.”

“Job in the way? That sucks.”

“You don't know the half of it.”

“Huh…so is this girl pretty?”

Gar was a bit surprised by this question, and found himself blushing even more. “Yes. Very.”

“Ah…are her eyes blue?”

“Yeah. I'm a bit of a sucker for blue-eyed chicks.”

“Dark blue? We talkin' midnight blue?”

“Umm…yes.”

“…Is her hair a weird color?”

Gar was getting more and more freaked out by the second. “…Yes.”

“Bluish?”

“All right, how—!” It was then that he realized that Alison wasn't looking at him, but staring straight past him. He very slowly turned around to see a very familiar face in the window staring back at him. With a flash of dark hair, the person was gone. Gar jumped up and ran out the door, looking around frantically.

She wasn't there.

Gar felt his knees on the ground and Alison's hand on his shoulder, shaking him, and her voice telling him to snap out of it. But he wasn't really registering any of it. All that was going through his head was that thought: She wasn't there. She would never be there. And it was all his fault. All his fault…

“Gar?”

“I let her go…” he whispered.

“Mmm?”

“…Nothing.”

“You ain't gonna have a nervous breakdown, right? `Cause you'd be paying for cab that I'd call to take you home.”

Gar let out a chuckle and stood up. “S'okay, I'll be fine.”

“See, with the whole falling down and shaking like hell thing, I kinda doubt that.”

“No, really…I'm fine. It was nice talking to you. Have a nice life with Manuel.”

“Gar!”

But Gar had already immersed himself in the crowd. He had to figure a way to make it work. He would make it work, somehow. Because if he didn't, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

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Rae slumped down by the lamppost and hid her face in her hands. Her mind and her heart were arguing violently. She wanted to scream, but she stayed calm and listened closely to the fight.

`That bastard! He said he loved you, and what does he do? He goes and finds some pretty girl to use as his trophy!'

`Don't be stupid. You let him go, you made the choice. And for the record, you said you loved him, not the other way around.'

`But he should've at least tried…!'

'You had a month to try. So did he. If you can't do this, maybe it just wasn't meant to be.'

There was a long pause. Rae had never even considered that, but it seemed like a perfectly logical explanation. Rae plus Gar equals disaster, and that was all there was to it. If Gar wanted to get over her and find someone else, there was no harm in that. None at all.

So why did it hurt so much?

`Because you love him. And nothing you can think or say or do can change that.'

Rae walked in an almost zombie-like state through the city. People bumped into her and threw her dirty looks, some stared at her, and a few friends waved, but she knew none of this. All that she saw was distorted and was just a huge swirl of color. She opened the door to her building and silently crept past the other apartments. She climbed the stairs and fumbled for her keys in her bag. She unlocked her door and went inside, and suddenly realized exactly how dirty and small and pathetic her apartment was, and how her life had taken a nosedive in the past month.

She threw her bag in the corner, where it made a loud thump and the hem of her cloak hung out. She stopped and pulled the cloak and held it out in front of her. It was stained with sweat, dirt, and blood. And for some reason, Rae wanted nothing more than to rip it to pieces. But she didn't. Somehow, she found the will to stuff it back in her bag. She unplugged her phone cord, locked her door, and turned out all the lights. And then, Rae did something she had not done since she was very small.

She curled up in a ball on her bed and cried.

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And we'll all float on OK

And we'll all float on OK

And we'll all float on OK

And we'll all float on anyway, well—

“Terry, are you even listening?”

Terry nodded at Karen, though he could barely hear a word she was saying. He loved to listen to her talk, but a three-hour rant was where he drew the line. He had his CD player hidden under his shirt, and he had arranged his hair so that his headphones were concealed. She mad a face at him.

“Are you gonna say anything?” she asked, looking irritated.

Terry just nodded dumbly, hoping that she wouldn't notice…

“I knew it!”

Terry braced himself for a slap upside the head, but it didn't come. He looked at Karen to see her happily scrolling on her computer screen. He shut off Modest Mouse.

“OK,” he said. “I'll bite. What did you find?”

“OK…now, Rae went to college, right?”

“So I've been told. Bachelor's Degree in Journalism, she said.”

“Right. I've seen it. And I found Rae's records, right?”

“Right.”

“Good scores on the SATs.”

“Mmm. She's smart.”

“Full credits with no extracurricular activities.”

“Well, not everybody likes to be social.”

“That doesn't seem odd to you?”

He shrugged. “I knew people who didn't have any, and they got into college.”

“OK…but that's not really what I found that's so interesting.”

“…Wait a sec, what site are you getting Rae's records off of? Is that even possible?”

“I have my sources.”

“Your sources? What kind of sources!”

“Not important. But get this: I can't find where she went to high school.”

“What?”

“I've searched my sources—“

“—your very illegal-sounding sources—“

“—And it's as if…it's like she didn't exist before she took the SATs.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…there's nothing. A driver's license, a social security number, a bank account…but nothing before she was eighteen. This just isn't right.”

“What now?”

Karen paused, and she began to flip a quarter between her fingers—a sure sign that she was thinking very hard. After a few moments, she caught the coin in her hand—the sign that she had thought of her next big idea. Terry held back the urge to sigh romantically. He loved how Karen looked when she was getting an idea.

“We still don't know who Raven's family is or what happened to them, do we?”

Terry grinned, catching on. “No, we don't.”

“Well, who says she's lying to us?” She took out her notepad and wrote Terry, Rae, John, and her own name. She circled her own name and Terry's, and crossed out John's. “Maybe she's just having trouble keeping her story straight, and she let it slip to us. And that means that John's out in the dark.”

“Maybe.”

“All we need to do is track down her parents.”

“Right. Now all we need to do is go ask Rae for her birth certificate.”

Karen groaned, and flipped the quarter between her fingers rapidly. Terry was right; this was getting to the point where they would really need to buckle down. It was her journalistic nature—somehow, she would get the truth.

“…Unless you have another one of your not-so-legal-sources,” he said, looking mischievous. She grinned, catching the quarter.

“You know? I just might.”

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“So Vic, how did your meeting with Carl go?”

“Hmm?”

“Carl? Carl Leever? (A/N: FIRST CHAPTER!) The man you called a saint and said the next time you saw him you'd offer to wax his car?” Sarah laughed.

“Ohhh…that Carl,” Vic said. “It went well; he's really excited about Project Cyborg. Can't blame him, it's gonna revolutionize the way the whole world does labor, experiments…man, it's gonna be great!”

“Mmm-hmm. Hey Vic?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you…like to go to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Mmm?”

“Dinner.”

“Mmm.”

“With me.”

“Oh.”

“You don't want to?”

“No! It would be nice…you mean like a date?”

“It doesn't have to be.”

“Oh. Just…dinner between friends?”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Nice.” Vic went back to his papers nervously while Sarah fidgeted.

“...Do you want it to be a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“That doesn't make any sense!”

“So! If you want me to want you to want me to want it to be a date, then fine!”

“…WHAT?”

“IT'S A DATE!”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Vic set down his papers and sighed.

“When can I pick you up?”

“Hm?” Sarah said.

“For the date. When can I pick you up?”

“Seven's fine. Is that okay with you?”

“Seven? Absolutely! Seven's fine! Seven's great! Seven in heaven!” He quickly covered his mouth, realizing he was spouting mindless gibberish.

“All right, then. Seven.”

“Seven,” Vic agreed. Sarah turned back to her computer.

`Glad as hell I got that out of my system,' she thought.

“Where are we going?”

Sarah banged her head against the wall and groaned.

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The bright sun of Wednesday morning shone down on Jump City. Many were basking in its wonderful warm glow, while others found that the light made them feel much more energetic than on the cloudy days that had been plaguing them as of late. However, there was a certain editor-in-chief who wasn't finding the sun to be very relaxing.

“ROTH!”

`Goddammit, I was almost out!' Rae thought, turning to face her boss. His face was beet-red—and it wasn't from embarrassment.

“Roth, you arrive just before the deadline with your articles, and you are getting increasingly sloppy. So, pray tell: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO YOU! You're a great journalist, and you're just doing this crap to keep me from firing you!”

“But sir, things have been complicated latel—“

“—Roth. Listen to me. I'll put it in small sentences. If you don't do better, you are in bad shape.”

Rae grinned nervously. “How bad is bad shape?”

“You'll be out of a job. Get the hell out of my office, and go do some real work, not this…this crap.”

Rae sighed and started to walk. `If only he knew…'

“And Roth!” Rae turned back to Connery. “I don't say this to many people, so listen good. I respect you.” Rae looked stunned. “You're an asset to this paper, and for some reason you've just been screwing around like a high school kid lately. I don't get it, and I won't tolerate it. I don't like to see people I respect flush themselves down the toilet.” Rae just stood there in shocked silence. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

“Yessir.”

Rae walked out the doors to the Jump City Herald building, looking thoughtful. Warren Connery respected her. That was something. That was really something. She suddenly remembered what her new assignment was: Raven had been active lately, and they needed a full article on her recent war on crime. She smiled.

`You want a story, Connery? Leave it to me.'

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“So, they didn't kill him?” the man known as Boss asked.

“…No,” Sherman answered. “Raven interfered, sir.”

“Mmm. As I expected. Friends help each other out, yes?”

“Of course, sir.”

“But Nightwing's busy tonight…that I've made sure of. You've sent word, Sherman?”

“Yes sir. Gerald told the men: `Keep `im on a wild goose-chase for tonight.'”

“That's right,” Boss said. He walked over to where it was, the great Behemoth, glinting in the dim light. “This time, I will not be deterred. For Raven, there will be no interference.”

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Vic was straightening his favorite shirt to perfection; that point one reaches where it looks not so straight that it seems as if you actually thought about how it looked, but not so rumpled as to look sloppy. When he decided that he had reached that point, he put on his jacket, pet Sparky goodbye, and locked the door behind him.

He drove down the street in his stylish blue car, cranking up the heat to shield against the bitter cold outside. His friends were impressed by such a nice, expensive looking car, but the truth was, it was just the old T-Car—with a new paint job, of course. He couldn't take any chances of it being recognized, especially with Raven running around, stirring up old debates about the Teen Titans.

“You'd think they'd just let sleeping dogs lie,” he muttered. `Then again,' he thought. `I guess one of the dogs is awake, eh? Two, really, but it's not like anyone knows Robin's Nightwing.' He pulled into Sarah's driveway, his thoughts switching back to the present situation.

`Okay Stone, just wing it like you always do. Lay on some of that good ol' charm, things will be fine…' He knocked on the door and pulled out the flowers he had brought.

“Victor!” Sarah opened the door, wearing a wonderful (and quite sexy) midnight black dress and high heels. Vic was silent, as he was focusing all of his will power on not picturing Sarah naked—a task that was becoming exceedingly difficult. “Flowers!” she squealed. “You're sweet, ya know that?”

“Mmmgeheh,” was all that Vic could say.

Sarah smiled at him. He was like a teenage boy, bringing flowers on the first date, looking more nervous than he needed to be. She chuckled.

“I just need to say goodbye to Bryan. Be back in a second.” She went in the house, where Bryan, Michael, and his older brother, Alfonse, were playing cards. Alfonse was showing the boys how to play BS. “Thanks for watching Bryan tonight, Al.”

“No problem, Ms. C.,” Alfonse said, giving her a salute. Sarah walked over and gave Bryan a kiss on the head.

“I'll be back soon, honey.”

“I know,” he muttered.

“Have a nice time.”

“I will. You too.”

Sarah walked back to the door, where Vic was waiting with his arm drawn out, looking considerably calmer.

“Shall we?”

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Raven was finished with her project that she had been working on for months: A transmitter that picked up police radio communications. She smiled at her handiwork and popped the device in her ear. No more waiting to hear police sirens. Just as she tapped the button on it to make it work, she could hear every conversation they were having on their radios all over town.

`Who says Cyborg didn't teach me anything?'

Raven was soaring over the city, listening now to a certain call that had caught her ear.

“This is car 62…car 62 calling for backup…we got some sort of giant robot down by the park…over.”

She grinned. A giant robot. It was ridiculous situations like this that made her think of the good old days. She sped towards the park, and almost popping her head off when she stopped. There was indeed a rather large robot walking through the park; walking was hardly an adequate term to describe its movement. It was flattening everything in its path, not stopping for anything.

`It's looking for something,' she thought. `It must be, otherwise it wouldn't be—SHIT!' Raven barely dodged the laser that cut through the air right where she had been just a split second before. The Behemoth's eye was smoking, and its attention now appeared to be on Raven.

“You want me, big guy?” she yelled, already flying towards it. “YOU GOT ME!” She shot a blast of dark energy at it. It stumbled backwards, but bounced back surprisingly quickly, thrusting a fist back at her. She flew backwards and out of its reach. “HA!”

It was only after her triumphant shout that Raven realized she was staring down the barrel of a sonic cannon.

The blast sent her flying through the park. She couldn't really differentiate one tree from another—she only knew that she smashed through quite a few of them. All she heard was the rush of air and the splintering of wood, coming to an abrupt halt and a loud CRACK!

Raven's pounding head blocked out most of the other pain that she was in. The only thing she could really feel was the distant pain of something being lodged in her left thigh. Her eyes were closed and she could hear a distant sound…

TOMPH.

TOMPH.

TOMPH.

It was the sound of the robot stomping towards her. Raven's mind was overcome with panic, sending countless messages to her body to move, get up! Her aching body was ignoring the commands for the most part. She finally forced her lids up and saw that there was indeed a tree fragment stuck in her leg. Seeing it suddenly made it seem a lot more painful. She groaned and put her hand on her forehead, only to find that something was different. It was as if something was trying to get through to her brain, but she couldn't quite register what it was. She lay confused and dazed, running her fingers through her hair…

`SON OF A BITCH! MY HOOD!'

The Behemoth towered over her, its red eye focused straight on her. The eye began to glow, and Raven pulled the piece of wood out of her leg (rather painfully) and rolled down the hill she was on. The laser fired just a second after she rolled, leaving a smoldering crater where she had been.

Raven rolled all the way to the bottom of the hill—unable to fight gravity with her injured leg—and pulled her hood back up over her face. No one had seen her. She looked back to her leg—and quickly looked away again. She couldn't stand, but she could still fly.

`And if I can still fly, then I can still fight.'

The robot had found her again, and took a long sweep with its hand. She levitated right over it and flew past it. In her condition, she would need some additional materials…

Raven flew up roughly 100 feet, looking around for something—anything—that could help her beat this thing. All she saw were trees and benches. `Wood won't do any good…and it's not like a bench will help put much of a dent in that thing either.' She kept scanning, and then she saw something: A playground. `Now that could help.'

Suddenly, another red laser blast shot at her. This time, it did not miss. Raven clutched her side, cursing herself for not seeing it coming. She flew down and swerved around the giant, making a beeline for the playground. She came to a halt by the swing set.

Raven focused and chanted, uprooting the metal structure. She waved her hands and it twisted and contracted into a ball. She increased her chanting, and it melted in to a condensed metal sphere. The Behemoth was upon her now, but she was ready. She spun and shot the metal ball right into its eye.

It sparked for a moment, and then exploded.

The cops arrived a few minutes later, only to find the Behemoth destroyed. They collected its remains and after some investigating, deduced that Raven had been involved. The lieutenant sent out orders to cover the whole area, and look for her.

But she was already quite far away.

Raven muttered and cursed, realizing that even if she made to made it to her apartment—something that was becoming more and more unlikely by the second—there was no way she would be able to stop or at least slow her bleeding before passing out. Her healing and regenerative powers were good, but not that good. Hospitals were out of the question. There was only one place she could go.

She just hoped she could make it in time.

Vic was floating on a cloud of pure bliss. His date with Sarah had been nothing short of perfect. They had really hit it off. He sighed romantically—something which he never did—and reached in his pocket for his keys as he approached. He could faintly hear his dog barking inside.

`Must've forgotten to feed him,' Vic thought. He unlocked the door and went inside. The barking grew more insistent.

“Okay, boy! I'll get you somethin' to eat! Chill!” Vic grumbled. He was very disturbed when he didn't find Sparky waiting by his food bowl. He was even more unnerved when he found that the bowl had barely been touched. “Sparky…?” He walked farther into his apartment. If anybody in the next apartment had been awake, they might've heard a gasp and the soft thump of Vic dropping his jacket.

Sparky was standing over Raven, who was lying on the floor in a growing pool of blood.

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Blowfish: I'm sure you all are pissed. I just couldn't resist. Mwahahahahaha. Anyway…reviews kick ass. So review!