Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ Teen Titans: Future Storm ❯ Stem ( Chapter 3 )

 

“Teen Titans: Future Storm”

Arc 1: “Ravaged”

Chapter 3: “Stem”

Disclaimer: The concept of Teen Titans does not belong to me. Nightstar and Ravager are owned by DC Comics, while Mercury is owned jointly by DC and Marvel Comics. Everyone else, except for anyone you might recognize, belongs to me.

Author's note: Further down the spiral we go. Now I know some people don't like stories where the Titans go to high school because they're often cliché A/U stories that tend to focus on shipping and aren't written that well . . . perhaps because they're written by people who actually are in high school and have yet to develop the talent and perspective required to write good stories in any genre. However, this is not an A/U high school story and more focus will be given to the new Titans as crime-fighters than as high school students. The high school angle will still be there, mainly because it's necessary to humanize the Titans.

By the way, you will see just how much Nightstar and Bladefire take after their dad, although it might be more Nightstar than Bladefire.

That night, Bladefire lay on his bed, suffering from a severe case of ennui. Granted, he'd been suffering from ennui ever since Starfire died, but every so often, it verged on unbearable.

“Feeling weary again, Joh'n?” Nightstar asked while standing at the open door.

“Yeah, I suppose I am, Mar'i,” Bladefire replied.

“Go,” Nightstar said. “We'll call if we need your help.”

“Thanks,” Bladefire replied before getting up and closing the door. He stripped off his uniform and changed into a pair of black jeans, a black sleeveless shirt, and a red vest. He hooked his Titan communicator, which was a small black rectangle with a T insignia, to his belt and flew out of Titans Tower.

Bladefire found himself at Haze, a nightclub that generally catered to teens and young adults. Inside, one could see the entire color spectrum in the frequent flashes of light. Young men and women twisted and writhed and undulated to the throbbing techno and trip-hop as the red-haired half-Tamaranean walked toward the bar.

As he walked, he felt a slender, toned arm wrap around his waist.

“Hello, Bladefire,” a silky feminine voice that sounded very familiar to his ears greeted.

“Brazen little minx, aren't you?” Bladefire murmured as he shifted to face the person holding him.

She was about as tall as he was, maybe slightly taller; the low-heeled boots made it hard for him to accurately gauge her height. A black leather zip-front tank top and pants clung to her body and accented her gentle curves. A silver mesh bracelet adorned her wrist and long silver hair framed her face, concealing her left eye. Judging by her facial features, she seemed to be in her early twenties.

“I am,” she remarked with a slow smile. “Dance with me?”

Bladefire gazed into her one exposed blue eye. “I don't see why not.”

The two moved to the music, the silver-haired girl leaning on him as he embraced her. While they danced, two impulses warred in Bladefire's mind. One impulse was to push her away and flee. The other impulse was to hold her closer, mold himself to her completely.

The first impulse was born of years of subtly distancing himself from others. The second impulse was born of a desire for closeness, for the intimacy that he had spent years denying himself.

“How do you know me?” Bladefire asked softly.

“Everyone knows you,” the silver-haired girl replied impishly.

“I'm not in my Titan outfit,” Bladefire said. “How did you know it was me?”

“You're the only red-haired guy I know of who wears his hair like Himura Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin,” the silver-haired girl answered.

“You like vintage animé, too?” Bladefire inquired.

“One of the few pleasures I allow myself,” the silver-haired girl responded with a smile.

“I think I like you,” Bladefire murmured as he nestled his head in the crook of her neck. “You smell wonderful.”

“And I don't even use perfume,” the silver-haired girl remarked.

“What's your name?” Bladefire asked.

“Rose,” the silver-haired girl replied.

“Apropos,” Bladefire remarked.

At that moment, Bladefire's communicator bleeped. He pulled away from Rose and removed the communicator from his belt, flipping it open. “Bladefire here.”

“We've got trouble, Blade,” Nightstar's image spoke in the mini-screen of the communicator. “Some neo-Nazi freak jobs are holding a synagogue hostage and they've got the infrastructure rigged up with bombs. Here are the coordinates.” Nightstar's image vanished, replaced by a digital map of the synagogue and the surrounding area. “Get here as soon as you can.”

“Will do,” Bladefire answered. “Bladefire out.” He closed the communicator.

“So paramilitary,” Rose remarked.

“I've gotta go, Rose,” Bladefire said. “It was nice dancing with you, but -”

“Go. Save some innocents,” Rose stated.

“Will I see you again?” Bladefire asked.

“I'll find you,” Rose replied. “Go.”

Bladefire left Haze and changed into his Titan uniform, flying to the coordinates Nightstar gave him.

“Good thing you're here,” Raziel stated.

“I hate these guys,” Inferno snarled. “If there's anyone in the world I can honestly claim to hate, it's assholes like them.”

“So what's going on?” Bladefire asked.

“It's like I said,” Nightstar replied. “Neo-Nazi lunatics are holding that synagogue across from us hostage.”

“Why aren't we going in and taking them out?” Bladefire asked.

“Mercury's on recon,” Nightstar replied.

At that moment, the Azure Blur - as the press had taken to nicknaming Mercury due to his mostly blue outfit - returned from recon.

“What did you see?” Nightstar asked.

“Neo-Nazi a-holes at all possible entrances and exits with loaded shotguns,” Mercury replied. “Their leader's at the head with a rifle pointed at the people inside. There's even a sniper hidden at one of the windows and I think they put him there to kill anyone who even thinks of approaching this place.”

“So how do we get in?” Beast Girl asked.

“I go in and take them all out myself,” Mercury replied. “I'm the only one here fast enough to get past the sniper. The rest of you would get picked off.”

“Noble sentiment, but this is a team effort,” Nightstar contradicted. She looked at Raziel. “You think you can take out the guys at the front entrance?”

Raziel pulled out two dice and flicked them at the two armed men at the front entrance. An instant later, both of them were down for the count with blood pouring out of their wounds.

“They'll live,” he stated. “I deliberately missed their vitals . . . and I don't think they'll lose enough blood to die.”

“Stick to the shadows,” Nightstar ordered. “And spread out.”

The Titans spread out into the shadows, taking out the militiamen guarding the entrances and exits from outside. A tiger's claws tore through guns and body armor to shred much more vulnerable flesh. Invisible blades cut through guns and shredded vertebrae without leaving a mark on the clothing, flesh, and muscle above. Preternaturally speedy hands dismantled shotguns and beat their wielders into submission. Flames melted guns and burning hands knocked their owners unconscious. A simple psychic suggestion put the gunmen to sleep, while whips and blades cut through guns and well-placed nerve strikes knocked their holders unconscious.

With that over with, the teen heroes busted into the synagogue, Nightstar's first act being to grab the neo-Nazi thugs at the door and bash their heads together, thus knocking them out.

“Goddamn alien bitch!” the leader yelled. He pointed his shotgun at a rabbi's head. “You or your freak friends come any closer and I'll put so many damn bullets in this kike's head that they'll only be able to ID him by his prints!”

“And what makes you think one of us can't move or think faster than those bullets?” Nightstar asked.

“You just try it!” the leader yelled. “Try it and see what happens to these people!”

The grand irony was that while this exchange was happening, the Titans all had guns pointed at them.

“Guns,” Samara remarked contemptuously. “That's your solution to everything. Get a gun and blow someone's head off. That's why people like you no longer have power in this country. You're nothing but a bunch of brutes that rely on intimidation and violence to achieve your ends.”

“Shut up, you hell-spawned whore!” a gun-toting militiaman yelled.

An instant later, a black aura engulfed the extremist's gun and broke it into its separate components. The surprised neo-Nazi looked at Samara's glowing white eyes with horror.

“Don't call me a whore,” she spat.

“Kill them!” the leader shouted.

“Actually, you can't,” Mercury said.

“Why not, punk?” the leader asked defiantly.

“Because I spent all this time screwing with your guns so you couldn't use them on us or the people attending services here,” Mercury replied. “Go ahead, try to shoot. See what happens.”

“What are you doing?” Inferno asked in a whisper.

“Relax, man, I got this,” Mercury whispered back.

“Stupid white-haired punk thinks he can scare us,” the leader grumbled. He pressed the trigger on his rifle . . . and the rifle exploded in his hands. “Ahhh! Goddamn son of a bitch!”

“So will you gentlemen - and I use this term very loosely - surrender, or will we have to use force?” Nightstar asked.

“I say you can kiss your ass good-bye, alien!” an extremist shouted, pulling out a smaller handgun he'd hidden underneath his pants leg and pointing it at Nightstar's head. He never got the chance to shoot her, though, as the window suddenly shattered and the militiaman fell dead with a kunai in his head.

The other neo-Nazis went insane and attempted to fire their weapons at the Titans, only for those weapons to malfunction. Some merely misfired, failing to discharge a bullet. Others backfired, actually bursting when their holders attempted to shoot. As a result, they were easily taken care of by the Titans.

“It's ok,” Bladefire said to the terrified attendees of the synagogue. “You're safe now.”

“Wait,” Beast Girl said. “Where'd Nightstar go?”

The Ravager leaped across rooftops, evading her pursuer . . . or leading her into a trap. Nightstar wasn't sure, but she didn't care very much.

The assassin finally stopped at a neon-lit rooftop that bathed her in electric violet light. Nightstar landed in front of her.

“Were you following us?” she asked.

“Yes,” The Ravager replied.

“Why?” Nightstar asked.

“To kill you,” Ravager answered.

“If you wanted us dead, then why didn't you let that neo-Nazi blow my head off?” Nightstar asked.

“Because you're mine to kill, Nightstar,” Ravager responded. “Mine. Besides, if you die and I'm not the one that does you in, then I don't get my payment.”

“Just about the money, huh?” Nightstar remarked. “So you're not another psycho who has it in for us. You're just a greedy bitch.”

“There's more to me than you think,” The Ravager stated, drawing her sword.

Nightstar lashed at Ravager with her energy whip, but the assassin caught the whip with her sword blade and used it to pull Nightstar to her, viciously knee-jabbing her in her exposed stomach and throwing her at the neon sign. The Titan leader collided with the tall neon S and the bulbs shattered, the shards and lit metal pieces scratching and embedding themselves inside her exposed back.

“Not a very good idea to wear such skimpy clothes,” Ravager commented, “even if those shorts do wonders for your legs.”

Nightstar got up with a very incensed expression. A purple wave of power issued forth from her eyes and struck Ravager dead in the midsection, the force knocking her off the rooftop. Worried that the assassin might have fallen to her death, the half-Tamaranean flew to the edge of the rooftop and looked over it, only to find Ravager clinging to it. The assassin swung herself up into an acrobatic flip that brought her back up to face Nightstar.

“Don't worry about me,” she said. “I've survived worse than your optic blasts.”

The Ravager sheathed her sword and launched herself into a flying kick that knocked Nightstar onto her already injured back. Nightstar bit her teeth to prevent herself from crying out in pain. There was no way she would give The Ravager the satisfaction of hearing her pain. Instead, she got up and launched herself into the air, coming down with a flurry of fierce flying kicks. It took everything the young mercenary had to block them at all and a few managed to breach her defenses.

Finally, Nightstar spun and clocked Ravager with a particularly brutal kick, wrenching her head around by slightly more than ninety degrees.

The Titan leader gazed upon her work in horror, a horror that increased when Ravager reached up and casually twisted her head back into its proper position.

“What do I keep telling you, Nightstar?” she asked. “It really hurts when you do that to me . . . but maybe you like hurting me.”

“No,” Nightstar protested firmly.

“You like it, don't you?” Ravager went on. “Hurting me. Hurting the `bad guys.' But I know who you really want to hurt. The people who killed your mom. The people who made it so that you would never see her smile, never see her eyes light up when she looked at you again.” As the assassin spoke, Nightstar heard something she'd never before heard in her enemy's voice.

Anguish.

“Believe me . . . I know the feeling,” The Ravager whispered harshly.

“How do you know this?” Nightstar asked.

“I did my research,” The Ravager replied, returning to her pose of cool arrogance.

“I don't care what you know,” Nightstar growled. “I'm not like you. I don't hurt people because I like it.”

“Yes, but you have the instinct in you,” Ravager retorted. “The rage. Deep down, you and I are so very much alike.”

“I'm nothing like you!” Nightstar yelled and came at the assassin with such fury that even she was taken aback. Ravager blocked as many of Nightstar's attacks as she could, but Nightstar was coming at her too fast for her to block completely. While an ordinary opponent would have been horrified by Nightstar's strength and intensity, Ravager reveled in it.

“Yes! Yes!” Ravager shouted. “Come on! Show me that rage, Nightstar! Show me! Show me my kindred spirit!”

She was finally laid low by a brutal punch to the jaw. “I'm no kindred spirit of yours,” Nightstar stated coldly before flying away to rejoin the other Titans.

Later, Nightstar lay on her front in the infirmary as Samara telekinetically removed the bulb shards from her back.

“Where do you get off going after The Ravager by yourself?” she asked, pulling out one bulb shard harder than necessary.

Nightstar winced. “She killed that guy, Samara.”

“Said guy being an utter racist bastard who would have killed you just for being half alien,” Samara answered.

“So should I have let her get away?” Nightstar asked irritably.

“No,” Samara replied. “But you should have remembered your own advice to Mercury: `This is a team effort.'” She removed the last shard. “She did a number on you, all right.”

“It doesn't hurt that bad,” Nightstar said.

“Quit playing tough and let me heal you,” Samara grumbled. She laid her hands on Nightstar's wounded back and purple energy passed into the wound, sealing the cuts and peeling away the burned skin, revealing perfectly healthy golden bronze skin.

“Ah, I feel better now,” Nightstar murmured. “But my back still feels a little sore.”

“I'll take care of that,” Samara whispered and began to rub Nightstar's back, eliciting a sigh of contentment from her leader.

“You have . . . such wonderful hands,” the half-Tamaranean girl murmured. “Inferno's gonna love you.”

To her credit, Samara didn't stop her backrub. “What gave you that impression?”

“Nothing,” Nightstar replied in a singsong voice. “A girl just knows these things.”

Samara didn't reply to that, instead continuing to massage Nightstar's back.

Some days later, the Titans - except for Nightstar, who was hanging out with Lian Harper, alias the Red Hood, in Star City - received a message on their communicators.

“Meet me at the rooftop of the Metropolitan Museum,” a distorted voice said.

So the six Titans found themselves on the rooftop of Metropolitan Museum and staring at the back of a person who seemed to be more shadow than human. The gender was uncertain, but the curvature of the person's hips and rear led the Titans to believe it was a woman.

“Shouldn't we have called Nightstar?” Beast Girl asked.

“She and Red Hood are hanging out,” Bladefire replied. “Girl stuff. Don't want to interrupt them.”

“Besides,” Inferno added, “we can handle ourselves while she's away.”

“Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to talk amongst yourselves when someone is present?” the shadowy person asked, the distorted voice coming off feminine enough to convince the Titans that this was a woman with whom they were dealing. She turned around, revealing that she was dressed in black motorcycle leathers - a jacket, pants, gloves, and boots - with a black mask concealing her face. The interesting thing about that mask was that a scarlet bird emblem adorned the front and a black ponytail stuck out of the back.

“Who are you and why did you call us here?” Bladefire asked.

“So sorry,” the leather-clad woman replied. “I'm Rubyhawk and I'm going to kill you.” As she spoke, she removed a silver rod from a holster on her belt and a line of black light extended from it. She swung the rod and the attached light line lashed at the Titans like a whip. Bladefire raised his bracelet-encased wrist to block the attack, only to be painfully burned by the touch of the whip-like laser weapon.

“Titans Together!” Bladefire shouted as the six Titans converged on Rubyhawk, only to be brutally beaten one by one.

The first was Mercury. He ran at Rubyhawk, only to skid to a nasty fall off the rooftop.

“Mercury!” Beast Girl shouted. “What did you do?”

“Frictionless surface,” Rubyhawk replied. “A person's connection to the Speed Force may enable him or her to defy the effects of friction, but attempting to move that fast on a frictionless surface causes rather bad things like falls to happen to them.”

Beast Girl lunged at Rubyhawk in the form of a panther, only to be hit by a capsular grenade that released a gooey red substance upon exploding. The explosion knocked Beast Girl down and the substance kept her stuck on the rooftop. She shifted into a rhinoceros to break out of the substance by sheer force, but the substance held fast. She next shifted into a mockingbird and attempted to fly, but the substance once again held fast. Her other forms, even her hybrid forms, encountered the same lack of success.

“If Mercury's dead, so are you,” Inferno stated, launching himself into a burning corkscrew kick. Rubyhawk raised her forearm to block, only to pull it back in pain from the heat of the impact. She retaliated with a laser whiplash that he blocked with his crossed arms. However, she seemed to have anticipated that and took the opportunity to sneak in another capsular grenade. This one released a web-like flame retardant that trapped him as effectively as the other grenade had Beast Girl.

Dice, marbles, and darts flew at Rubyhawk at bullet-like speeds and to Raziel's surprise . . . she dodged them all with an ease of motion that could belong only to the best acrobats and gymnasts in the world.

Raziel and Bladefire double-teamed Rubyhawk, Bladefire coming at her with a flying kick and Raziel going low with his kick. Rubyhawk jumped over Raziel's kick and wrapped her arm around Bladefire's ankle at almost the same moment, throwing the redhead aside and aiming a punch at Raziel's jaw. Raziel grabbed her fist and spun, adding his force to hers and throwing her down on the roof. Rubyhawk rolled out of the way of a flying punch that struck the rooftop.

Bladefire pulled his fist away from the indentation he'd made and cracked his knuckles. He summoned his energy blade and slashed at Rubyhawk, who blocked with her laser weapon . . . the light end of which was now a blade. The duo clashed, their respective blades sparking as they struck each other. Of course, it turned out that Rubyhawk didn't believe in playing fair, as she threw a flash-bang grenade in his face in the middle of their swordfight, blinding him momentarily. That moment turned out to be more than enough time for Rubyhawk to take him down for the count with a few well-placed sword strikes.

“That was dishonorable, underhanded, and ruthless,” Raziel snarled.

“Do you expect all your enemies to play fair?” Rubyhawk asked. “Naïve boy.”

Raziel and Samara tag-teamed Rubyhawk with bullet-like darts and psychic bolts, only for Rubyhawk to flip out of the way. Samara attempted to grab the leather-clad woman with a psychic claw but Rubyhawk moved out of the way. She flipped out of the way and off the rooftop.

“What the hell is she doing?” Samara asked in confused horror.

The next thing she knew, something shaped like a sharp C landed over her eye and a terrible pain lacerated her mind, preventing any coherent thought. Next to her, Raziel had collapsed in the same agony.

A blue-and-white blur suddenly slammed into Rubyhawk hard, knocking her off the rooftop. The blur raced to the edge of the rooftop and stopped, revealing itself to be Mercury. Fearful that he might have killed Rubyhawk by accident, he looked over the edge of the rooftop . . . only to find that she had disappeared.

Elsewhere, Rubyhawk was making her escape across the rooftops when she got the feeling someone was following her. She turned around and stared into the masked face of her shadow.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

“I'm surprised that someone else would try to kill the Titans,” The Ravager replied.

“What, like you're the only mercenary who's allowed to take up a contract on those twerps?” Rubyhawk asked.

“No,” Ravager replied. “I'm just surprised someone as green as you would try it.”

“And how long have you been at it?” Rubyhawk asked. “Three years?”

“I see you've done your research,” Ravager remarked.

“If I'm really so green, then I ought to learn from you, right?” Rubyhawk suggested. “Since you are the assassin according to my sources.”

“You want to be my student?” Ravager asked. “Sounds good to me. Just one test.”

“I'm up to it,” Rubyhawk replied.

That night, a young man named Will Daniels sat at his favorite booth in a restaurant. He was celebrating his twenty-sixth birthday the same way he had celebrated his birthdays since turning eighteen, with an escort and a trio of well-armed guards surrounding him.

He had the life. His father was a wealthy crime lord and he spoiled his son in what could only be construed as an attempt to buy the young man's love. Anything he wanted, he got. He wanted straight A's? Daddy bought the school state-of-the-art computer equipment. He wanted a date? Daddy bought the prettiest escort in town.

Yes, it was good to be Will Daniels.

Until some maniac on a tricked-out street bike burst into the restaurant through the plate-glass window, shattering it. The aforementioned maniac leaped off the street bike and flipped gracefully onto her feet.

Yes. Her feet.

Will looked at the mysterious intruder even as everyone around him, save for his guards, were beside themselves with terror. Black motorcycle leathers molded to the curves of her athletic frame and a black mask with a red bird emblem over where her eyes should be and a ponytail sticking out of the back covered her face.

“Who the hell are you, you crazy bitch?” Will asked.

The masked woman didn't answer that, instead withdrawing a silver rod from the holster on her belt.

“Oh, who cares?” Will decided. He looked at his guards. “Take her out!”

The guards pulled out their guns and opened fire on the masked woman, who somersaulted and twirled and flipped out of the way of the hail of bullets. She thumbed the rod and a black line of light emerged from one end, striking the guards like a whip. The whip-like black light knocked the guns out of their hands and sliced them across their chests. The guards collapsed on the floor, unmoving.

“What is this?” Will asked. The young man turned to run, but the masked woman caught him with her whip-like laser weapon. “What do you want with me?”

The masked woman didn't answer that.

“Who are you?” Will asked.

“Rubyhawk,” the masked woman spoke, her voice distorted, and that was the last thing Will heard before blackness overcame his vision.

“Excellent work,” The Ravager complimented. “You do have promise, but your technique could use a little polishing. Honestly, so could mine.”

“Then we'll help each other,” Rubyhawk answered.

“Partners?” Ravager asked as she extended her hand.

“Partners,” Rubyhawk confirmed as she took her hand.

End Notes: And that is where I'm ending it. Don't want it dragging on and turning out bad.

So far, people seem to like this story. I know there was a complaint about Tim Drake being Batman instead of Terry McGinnis from Batman Beyond. The explanation is that this story takes place in the year 2030 and Batman Beyond took place approximately forty or fifty years after its debut, meaning that it would have been ten or twenty years before Terry could become Batman. Richard couldn't be Batman because he'd resolved to live something close to a normal life with his family. Tim was basically the only one available who was the right age to be Batman and he already had the detective skills for it. Speaking of Batmen, you might very well see another candidate for the mantle emerge in one of the one-shot or two-part “between arcs” stories I'm thinking up.

In case you're wondering about Rubyhawk, think of “Masks” and you'll figure out who she is really quickly.

I probably gave away Ravager's identity in the scene in which Bladefire was out clubbing, but you won't notice unless you paid attention to Ravager's unmasking in the first chapter.

You're now free to let me know what you think about this chapter.