Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ Teen Titans: Future Storm ❯ Side Story 10: Mind Freak ( One-Shot )

 

“Teen Titans: Future Storm”

Side Story 10: “Mind Freak”

Disclaimer: The concept of Teen Titans does not belong to me. The characters Nightstar and Mercury do not belong to me, either; the former is owned by DC Comics and the latter is owned jointly by DC and Marvel. The Brain Trust is a creation of Batman Beyond that I've retooled for use in this story. Everyone and everything else is mine.

Author's note: This standalone was born of discussions I've had with DBAinsw regarding Raziel Crestmore, a.k.a. Cipher. The conclusion we came to was that Cipher was extremely flawed yet made out to be perfect. The truth was that I never intended to create a “perfect” character - that goes into Mary Sue/Gary Stu territory - and now I have a chance to resolve Cipher's issues as a character and move him in a new direction. I'm taking it.

Cipher sliced a training droid in half with his psychic blade, flipping backward and shooting an aura-charged marble at another droid, putting a large hole in its head. He grabbed a third droid and used his aura to blast its arms off before kicking it in the head.

Moving like a blur, he cut through the rest of the training droids, stopping only when they were in pieces. He panted heavily.

“It's not enough,” he muttered. “I have to get stronger.”

The words of Ibn al Xu'ffasch, the previously unknown son of Bruce Wayne, haunted the silver-haired combat psychic.

“I thought Mar'i would have chosen someone who wouldn't be overcome so easily.”

Cipher snarled and kicked the head of a droid, walking away from the training ground. As he walked, he passed by Nightstar.

“Raziel?” she asked. “What's wrong?”

“It's nothing, Mar'i,” Cipher replied. “Don't worry about me.”

“I can't help worrying,” Nightstar said. “And I have been worried about you lately. Since Ibn . . . you've been distant. More so than usual.”

“I said it's nothing,” Cipher insisted, walking away from her. “If you'll excuse me, I'm late for an appointment.”

Cipher changed out of his Titans uniform and into a black jacket over a dark green shirt and dark blue jeans. He picked up the keys to his motorcycle and left the Tower.

“I'm glad you could make it, Raziel,” a middle-aged brunette dressed in drab clothes greeted him.

“It's all right, Mrs. Coeur,” Cipher answered. “Where's Amelia?”

“Studying in her room,” Mrs. Coeur replied.

“Sure,” Cipher said before climbing up the stairs to Amelia's room. He gently rapped on the door.

“Who is it?” a young female voice asked.

“It's Raziel,” Cipher called out through the door.

Moments later, the door opened, revealing a slip of a girl, blonde hair framing a delicate-featured face and loose clothes hiding her figure.

“Hi, Amelia,” Cipher greeted.

“You're my new tutor?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah,” Cipher replied.

“All my tutors keep leaving,” Amelia said.

“Why's that?” Cipher asked.

“Every time they show up, I suddenly . . . know things,” Amelia replied. “I know them . . . as well as my tutors do, so they don't think I really need to be tutored anymore. I just need motivation.”

“Well, let's give it a go for today,” Cipher said. He picked up Amelia's textbook and read the page to which it was opened. “Ok. If x plus 7 equals 12, what is x?”

“Five,” Amelia answered.

“If 5 times x equals 40, what is x?” Cipher asked.

“8,” Amelia replied.

“You're pretty good at this,” Cipher remarked. “Just one question . . . can you remember what you learn when your tutors show up?”

“No,” Amelia replied. “I can never remember. After they leave, I forget what they were talking about. I can remember when I'm in class, but when I'm out of class, I forget again.”

Cipher pondered what Amelia had just told him for a moment. He heard the faint sounds of Mrs. Coeur talking to someone. A chill ran down his spine.

“I'm going to go check something out,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

He went down the stairs, moving as quietly as a mouse. He could hear their conversation more clearly now.

“You're saying my daughter is . . . special?” Mrs. Coeur asked.

“Yes,” a male voice answered. “Amelia has a gift. One we wish to see nurtured to the peak of her potential.”

“I'm not so sure of this,” Mrs. Coeur said.

“Not to worry,” the male continued. “We have the finest facilities any parent of a child such as yours could ask for. Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, yes, I would,” Mrs. Coeur replied, more firmly this time.

“Then you'll see them,” the male answered. “Tonight.”

By this point, Cipher was able to see what was going on. The male Mrs. Coeur was talking to had short blond hair, wore a three-piece suit, and was quite muscular underneath said suit.

“Brick,” he muttered.

Brick looked up and locked eyes with Cipher, cold blue meeting hard violet. A chilling smirk lit his features.

“What are you grinning at?” Mrs. Coeur asked.

Brick merely continued looking up, causing Mrs. Coeur to turn around and look, seeing Cipher.

“Raziel,” she greeted. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, it's ok, Mrs. Coeur,” Brick replied. “Mr. Crestmore is an old acquaintance of mine. We go back quite a ways. In fact, he used to be a student at the school I represent.”

Cipher could do no more than stare in stunned silence.

“I'd better get back to Amelia,” he said once he recovered his voice. “Sorry I interrupted.”

He nearly ran up the stairs back to Amelia's room.

Brick! he thought angrily and with a tinge of fear. The combat psychic had nothing but bad memories associated with the man, who was a constant regenerator. He couldn't be stopped, only slowed down and even that was more or less futile. And now they're after Amelia.

No, that wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let anyone else be subjected to the nightmare that he'd had to endure.

He knocked on Amelia's door.

“Raziel, is that you?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah,” Cipher replied. “Mind if I come back in?”

“No, not really,” Amelia answered.

Cipher opened the door and entered Amelia's room.

“You seem worried about something,” she remarked.

“Can't talk about it right now,” Cipher said. “But I think I know why you can only remember what you're being taught when you're in the presence of tutors.”

“Why?” Amelia asked.

“On your own, you have only your own knowledge to work with,” Cipher explained. “However, when you're around others, you can imprint their minds onto yours, allowing you to replicate their knowledge and skills. Of course, it only works when they're near you; if they leave, you're left with your own knowledge and skills again.”

“That sounds kinda cool,” Amelia said. “So . . . if I were around a super-genius, I'd be a super-genius, too?”

“As long as that super-genius was near you, yes,” Cipher reiterated. “Why don't we continue?”

After he was finished tutoring Amelia, he went downstairs, about to leave when Mrs. Coeur saw him.

“Raziel?” she asked. “What's the matter?”

“Be careful when you go to that school tonight,” he replied. “Have a good day.” He left without another word.

That night, Cipher made his way to the Brain Trust's cover academy in a personal flyer, said personal flyer in stealth mode to prevent it from being detected. He landed the flyer on the academy's rooftop and exited, sneaking into the building through the ventilation system. Motion sensors registered him, electrifying the walls as a security measure.

Fortunately, Cipher had thought to wear an insulated suit, so the electricity was a minor annoyance. He kept moving, but placed a breathing mask over his nose and mouth just in case they began pumping knockout or lethal gas through the vents.

He finally found his way to an exit. If he knew the Brain Trust the way he thought he did, they'd be showing Amelia and her mother the school area. They'd keep the two far away from the underground area, where the truth of the organization could be found.

He pushed the vent grille off its hinges, only to dive into a hail of laser fire. He moved like a demon, dodging the blasts of the Brain Trust's guards. While their armor would block his psychic attacks, it wouldn't exactly block his physical attacks. Unfortunately, since his strength was psychically derived, the armor would take the “oomph” out of his blows, leaving him no better off than a physically normal human with highly advanced combat skills.

Then again, that described the vast majority of his girlfriend's father's side of the “family” and they did just fine. He'd just have to get sneaky.

He pulled out a pellet and threw it down on the ground, said pellet releasing obscuring smoke upon landing.

“What is he trying to do, hide from us?” one of the guards asked.

“Doesn't matter,” another replied. “Turn on the infrared scopes. You'll see him.”

“Actually, sir, we can't see him,” a third guard said.

“Why not?” the squad leader asked.

“Because the smoke is giving off heat, too,” the third guard replied. “Enough for him to blend in with us.”

“Then adjust the scope to look for human body temperature!” the squad leader yelled.

By the time that order was given out, several of the guards had already been taken out, leaving those three.

“I still can't see him!” the first guard exclaimed.

“Why not?” the squad leader growled.

“Because there's nothing in this goddamned smoke cloud that's even remotely at human temperature except us!” the first guard yelled.

“And the others have already gone down!” the third guard added.

“The little screw is taking us all out while we can't see him,” the squad leader grumbled. “Adjust further!”

The first guard never got the chance to adjust his scopes, as he was swiftly disabled by Cipher, leaving the squad leader and the third guard all on their lonesome. Cipher simply walked up to them and said one word.

“Boo.”

Both guards immediately lost their composure, firing at him like a panicked arcade visitor pulling the trigger on the pretend gun to kill the aliens on the screen before he lost his last life. Cipher simply dodged each and every blast, having the advantage of superior speed and contact lenses specifically designed to operate in vision-obscuring conditions.

By the time the smoke cleared, he was gone and a squad of Brain Trust guards was unconscious.

Cipher had escaped back into the vents and was now making his way to find Amelia and Mrs. Coeur. He did find Brick walking out of a classroom. He exited the vent, leaping out to attack Brick, who simply caught him by the wrists and threw him into a wall.

“Mr. Crestmore,” Brick greeted with a falsely jovial smile. “Fancy seeing you here again.”

Cipher snarled underneath his breathing mask. “I'm not letting you turn her into another one of Azazel's killers.”

“I suppose she should turn out like you, a killer all on your own,” Brick remarked.

That single statement caused Cipher to lunge at Brick, ready to slice him apart with his psychic blades. Of course, Brick slipped inside his guard and kidney-punched him with enough force to make the combat psychic cough up blood. Cipher had enough presence of mind to grab him by the wrist and try to slice his hand off. The operative word was “try,” since Brick's constant regeneration caused new cells to grow as soon as he started slicing. Brick just grabbed him and threw him again, sending him into - and through - the opposite wall.

Cipher picked up as much debris as he could and charged it with his aura, flinging all the pieces at Brick, who simply batted them aside. Cipher charged Brick again, striking blows that would be lethal for most people but which hardly affected Brick, who grabbed Cipher by his wrist and snapped it.

“Leave,” Brick said. “I wouldn't like to have to spill your blood while I have guests.”

Cipher snarled and charged past him, headed for the door the constant regenerator had walked through. He had sensed two other souls in there, both quite frightened. Of course, Brick had to try to clothesline him, but Cipher had seen the move and evaded. Unfortunately, evading had allowed Brick to block Cipher from the door.

“Leave,” he repeated.

“Fine,” Cipher spat. “But this isn't over. You come near Amelia again and I'll make sure you live to suffer for it.”

Brick smiled. “Nice threat, but not one I haven't heard.”

Cipher left the same way he'd come, through the ventilation system. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he could hear Brick laughing at him as he fled.

The combat psychic found himself in Father Matthew's church, slumped in the confession booth.

“Raziel?” Father Matthew asked.

“It's begun again,” Cipher replied with grim sadness in his tone.

“What has?” Father Matthew asked.

“The Brain Trust is targeting a girl named Amelia,” Cipher explained. “She's not even in high school yet . . .” He sighed bitterly. “She's hardly older than my sister would be if she were still alive.”

“You want to expiate your sins, don't you?” Father Matthew concluded. “It's not just about protecting the girl; it's about absolving your guilt over your family's deaths and what happened to Ariana.”

“I don't want her turning out like me or Ariana,” Cipher said.

“There's something else troubling you, isn't there?” Father Matthew deduced.

“I'm tainted,” Cipher replied. “Cursed. Poison.”

“What makes you say that?” Father Matthew asked.

“My hands are stained red,” Cipher continued. “With the blood of those I've killed and the blood of those who've died because of me. I can't add Mar'i to that list.”

“Is that why you are so distant from her?” Father Matthew asked. “If so, you are being . . . a damned idiot. Damned because you'll be condemning yourself to a lifetime of misery if you continue to pull away from her.”

“I'm not worthy of her,” Cipher said. “I'll only hurt her in the end, so I'd rather just walk away before she gets too attached to me.”

“You idiot,” Father Matthew sighed. “You'll hurt her worse if you leave, if you let your guilt and self-loathing gain so much power over you that you spurn the one person you've said is your light.”

“Maybe you're right,” Cipher whispered. “Maybe you're wrong. The fact remains that I'm no good for her.” He crossed himself as Father Matthew prayed for his soul and departed.

Cipher returned to Titans Tower holding his injured wrist behind his back. It was already healing and would be back to normal by the next day.

“And what have you been getting up to?” Samara asked, haunting the corridor.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Cipher answered.

Samara simply grabbed him by his injured wrist, eliciting a slight wince from him, and pulled him to her. “You idiot. You've been going out getting yourself banged up again.” Not giving him the chance to protest, she dragged him into her room and used her healing powers to finish the mending process.

“Thanks,” Cipher said.

“You're welcome,” Samara answered acidly. “Now what the hell did you do to get your wrist like that?”

Cipher confessed what had happened.

“And you didn't think to inform the rest of us?” Samara asked. “No, because the great Raziel Crestmore can handle everything himself, can't he?”

Cipher smiled ironically. “Perhaps I'm not that great, then.”

“No, I think you've known you're not that great for a while,” Samara mused. “That's where that unspoken arrogance comes in. It's an act - one I've seen through for some time.”

Cipher paced the room.

“You're seeking clarity,” Samara said. “You want to be free of your doubts, free of your self-hatred, and free of your guilt. There is a way of doing that. A vision quest.”

“Vision quest?” Cipher asked.

“I bury you within your own psyche, forcing you to confront yourself and your memories and make peace with them,” Samara replied.

“Let's do it, then,” Cipher said.

“Are you sure?” Samara asked. “A vision quest isn't something you go on lightly. It will force you to face yourself as you truly are.”

“I'm ready for it,” Cipher insisted.

“No one is ever ready,” Samara responded. “Not really, but if you insist . . . lie down.”

Cipher lay down on Samara's bed and removed his breathing mask. Samara placed a hand on his forehead and chanted something in the Azarathian tongue.

Then her eyes glowed blue-white and Cipher was plunged into the recesses of his mind.

He stood in what seemed like an endless corridor, with doors on either side. He walked to the first door on his left and opened it. A bright light shined forth from the door . . . and faded to reveal the house he had lived in with his family prior to their deaths.

“Home?” he murmured.

“Hi, big brother!” a cheery, painfully familiar voice greeted him.

Cipher turned around and saw Aimee, looking exactly the same as she had when she was alive.

“Aimee?” Cipher wondered.

Aimee hugged him tightly, despite the fact that she only came up to his waist.

“Not really,” she answered. “I'm just here to represent your innocence.”

“My innocence?” Cipher asked.

“When you were happy,” Aimee replied. “When you didn't know how evil and cruel human beings could be.” She smiled up at him. “I don't blame you for what happened to me and Mommy and Daddy. Those people lied to all of us, made us believe they wanted to help you.”

“I still . . . feel so guilty,” Cipher murmured.

Aimee kicked him in the shin. “Quit being silly! It's not your fault, so stop saying it is!”

The kick, along with Aimee's words, threw Cipher for a loop.

“Now you gotta go,” Aimee said. “There's somebody else who wants to see you. Just remember what I said, ok, Raziel?”

“Sure,” Cipher answered.

There was another flash of bright light and Cipher found himself standing in front of another door. He opened it and stepped through, finding himself in a very detailed facsimile of the Brain Trust's cover academy. He was inside the combat training arena, watching his past self spar with Ariana.

“Brings back memories, doesn't it?” a bittersweet, familiar voice remarked.

Cipher turned and saw Ariana, looking exactly as she had before she died - flowing red hair and a skimpy leather outfit.

“Ariana?” he wondered. “What are you supposed to represent?”

“I'm a memory from a better time in your life,” Ariana replied. “A time when you were growing more confident in your abilities and you felt as though you had someone who could understand you.”

“I'm . . . sorry,” Cipher said.

“For what?” Ariana asked.

“I left you,” Cipher replied. “If I hadn't left you in that place, you might not have ended up where you did.”

“You're a silly boy, you know that?” Ariana remarked. “Easy on the eyes, but silly.” She gripped the back of Cipher's head firmly, forcing him to look at her. “It's not your fault. Wyndragyn killed me, not you.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Cipher whispered. “Uriel may have been the persona that tried to kill you, but I wanted you out of my life, out of my memory. I . . . I'm . . .”

“If you say you're sorry again, I'm going to hurt you,” Ariana said. “It's not your fault. Got me? Not. Your. Fault. Say it with me.”

Chastised, Cipher spoke with Ariana, “Not my fault.”

“Feel better?” Ariana asked.

“Yeah,” Cipher admitted.

“Good,” Ariana said. “Now you have one more person to see.”

“Who?” Cipher asked.

“You'll know when you see him,” Ariana replied, before kissing him. Cipher momentarily closed his eyes . . .

. . . and reopened them to see that she was gone and he was outside a horribly familiar mansion.

“Here?” he muttered.

“Yeah, Kokuryu no Kiba, here,” a voice he thought he'd never hear again answered.

Cipher turned and saw Wyndragyn.

“And what do you represent?” he asked.

“Guilt,” the masked assassin replied. “Your guilt. Face it, Crestmore, you'll never wash that blood off your hands. You know why you couldn't stop me? You're weak. You've always been weak, so weak you couldn't even live in your own head by yourself.”

Cipher glared and sheathed his index and middle fingers in sharpened mental energy.

“Sure, because that worked so well last time,” Wyndragyn sneered, “but if you insist . . .”

He drew his katana and slashed at Cipher, who tried to slice through it but could only nick it.

“What?” Cipher wondered.

“This is your mind, stupid,” Wyndragyn taunted. “In the physical world, you may be able to cut through anything with those blades, but I'm not a construct of flesh and bone and blood. I'm a construct of your subconscious mind and it's going to take a lot more than what you're willing to give now to overcome me.”

Cipher simply slashed at Wyndragyn again, the masked assassin this time catching his wrist and twisting. Cipher simply swung his leg to kick Wyndragyn, but that was also caught. Cipher threw a punch with his free hand, but Wyndragyn bent backwards to evade it and swung his legs up to kick Cipher as the combat psychic lost his balance. He flipped back onto his feet as Cipher fell.

“You can do better than this,” Wyndragyn challenged. “Quit being such a little bitch.”

Cipher got back on his feet and charged Wyndragyn, fighting him with inhuman speed and nigh-demonic ferocity, slicing him repeatedly with his psychic blades. The blades cut through Wyndragyn's costume but not his flesh.

“You're getting better,” Wyndragyn said. “You've started overcoming your guilt over your family's and Ariana's deaths.” His fist shot forth and struck Cipher in the jaw, nearly breaking it. “But if you're to beat me, you'll have to do better.”

The two continued to do battle, slashing, punching, kicking, chopping, elbowing, and so forth. Cipher and Wyndragyn managed to land about the same amount of blows on each other, but Wyndragyn didn't seem to be affected by any of Cipher's blows.

“Don't you get it?” Wyndragyn asked. “You'll have to do better if you're to defeat me.”

“Better?” Cipher asked. “We're evenly matched. How am I to defeat you?”

Wyndragyn just caught his fist and laughed before socking Cipher. “Who said anything about fighting me?”

Cipher pondered that.

How am I supposed to defeat him if I can't fight him? he wondered.

“You're weak. You've always been weak, so weak you couldn't even live in your own head by yourself.”

The scary thing was that Wyndragyn had been right. He couldn't stomach killing, so he invented other selves to do it for him. He couldn't stomach sleeping with another person just to achieve an objective, so his subconscious formed yet another self to do it for him. He didn't want to feel, so he forged another self to do his feeling for him.

Weakness. A fatal flaw in his character.

“You're right . . .” Cipher said. “I was weak.” He looked up at Wyndragyn, wiping the blood off his lip. “But not anymore.”

The spectral forms of his other selves - Memnoch with the murderous gleam in his eyes, Uriel with his cold expression, Michael with his smile of challenge, Gabriel with his scholarly glasses, Samael with his charming exterior, and Gabrielle in all her femininity - emerged. The other selves shattered into luminous shards, shards that flowed into Cipher and shaped themselves into a psychic rapier.

“I did a lot of things I regret,” Cipher said. “If I hadn't been so weak, so encumbered by self-doubt, I could have stopped you . . . but I refuse to spend the rest of my life living in guilt.” With those last three words, he sliced Wyndragyn with the psychic rapier, cutting through the suit and the flesh and blood underneath.

Wyndragyn removed his mask and smiled at Cipher.

“Good for you.”

Wyndragyn vanished and Cipher found himself back in the real world.

“How was it?” Samara asked.

“To borrow a cliché, I feel like a new man,” Cipher replied. “How long have I been under?”

“All night,” Samara answered. “It's morning now.”

Cipher rose from the bed and picked up his breathing mask. “Thank you, Samara.” He departed from the room.

“You're welcome,” Samara whispered.

Cipher returned to his room and stripped out of the insulated suit he'd been wearing. After a brief shower, he dressed himself and went down to join the other Titans for breakfast.

“What were you and Samara doing all night?” Mercury asked.

“Therapy,” Cipher replied.

“And what kind of therapy was it?” Beast Girl asked.

“I hope you don't think what I think you think,” Cipher answered.

“Oh, I'm not the one you should be worried about,” Beast Girl said, jerking a thumb toward an inquisitive Nightstar. “She is.”

“Therapy, you say,” Nightstar said. “Must have been something for you to be in her room all night.”

“It was just therapy,” Cipher responded.

“If you say so,” Nightstar said.

Cipher's communicator began to beep. He flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Raziel?” Amelia's voice answered from the phone.

“Amelia?” Cipher asked. “What is it?”

“My mom is sending me to that school today,” Amelia replied. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”

“Ok,” Cipher said. “But I'll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Amelia answered.

“Is it that girl you're tutoring?” Nightstar asked.

“Yes,” Cipher replied. “She's like me, a psychic. She can imprint the minds of others in her immediate area onto hers in such a way that she can mimic their knowledge and skills. However, it fades away when the person whose knowledge and skills she's copying leaves her area. The Trust wants her.”

“Them again?” Bladefire asked.

“Yes,” Cipher confirmed. “And they're not going to have her. They'll be coming for her shortly, and that is when I'll intercede.”

“You want us to come with you?” Inferno asked.

“I'd like that,” Cipher answered.

That day, the Titans went to the Coeur residence, traveling in their mobile base. Once they were within sight of it, they noticed a black limo in front of the house and Amelia stepping inside it.

“Split up,” Nightstar ordered. “Bladefire, Beast Girl, Mercury, you three stake out Amelia's house and make sure no Brain Trust goons come to kill her mother. The rest of us will follow that limo and get Amelia away from the Trust.”

“Got it,” Bladefire responded as he, Beast Girl, and Mercury exited the mobile base.

The other Titans followed the limo all the way to the Brain Trust's cover academy. Once there, they infiltrated the academy, watching from their secret posts as Amelia entered with Bombshell and Brick. They followed the trio silently, waiting until Amelia had been shown to her room.

“I think it's time we made our move,” Nightstar said. “Cipher, you get Amelia out of there; the rest of us will distract Bombshell and Brick.”

“Sure,” Cipher answered.

Nightstar immediately launched an assault on Bombshell and Brick, lacerating both of them with her energy whip. Inferno began shooting intense waves of heat at the two Brain Trust operatives and Samara attacked with dark energy.

As all of that was going on, Cipher sneaked into Amelia's room.

“I have something to show you,” he said. Without another word, he grabbed Amelia by her arm and exited the room.

“What are you doing?” Amelia asked, surprised and somewhat frightened.

“He's taking the girl!” Bombshell shouted.

“I'll stop him,” Brick said. “You keep his friends occupied.”

As Cipher made his way toward the underground area of the cover academy, he was blocked by Brick.

“Let go of the girl, Crestmore,” he said.

“And what will you do if I don't?” Cipher asked.

Brick charged Cipher with borderline superhuman speed. However, Cipher's speed was actually superhuman and he bounded out of Brick's way while still holding Amelia. He began to run down the corridor, still carrying Amelia.

“What's going on?” Amelia asked.

“Don't worry,” Cipher replied. “I won't let anyone hurt you. I just have to show you the truth.”

“Why are your friends attacking that woman?” Amelia asked.

Cipher continued running, dashing down the stairway. He spotted Brain Trust guards running up the stairs to intercept him, but he dodged them. He made his way to an elevator, which dinged to let him know that it had reached his level. The elevator opened, revealing more guards. Cipher simply beat them into general helplessness and carried Amelia with him into the elevator. He pressed the black button that would take him to the underground sanctum of the Brain Trust.

Once there, he and Amelia exited. He opened a door and stepped inside with Amelia, where they found telekinetics practicing assassination techniques. Entering another room showed a cyberpath being wired to a computer, the monitor of which showing images of clandestine data acquired from government and corporate mainframes all over the world. A third room showed a young woman in a trance.

“Why is she like that?” Amelia asked.

“Astral projection,” Cipher replied. “Her mind is elsewhere, which can be used for either spying or long-distance telepathic or telekinetic attacks on a person.” He looked at Amelia grimly. “This is the truth of the Brain Trust. They don't want to help you; they want to mold you into a weapon. A person who can acquire the knowledge and skill of anyone she is in contact with is a very valuable weapon to them.”

“Now, son, why did you have to go and show that to her?” the voice of Azazel questioned mockingly. “Such a horrible child you are.”

“Azazel,” Cipher growled.

Azazel stood before Cipher, having regenerated the arm that had been shattered in his last encounter with his son. Cipher summoned his psychic rapier, while Azazel summoned his psychic broadsword.

“Stay by me, Amelia,” Cipher said.

“O-ok,” Amelia stammered.

Azazel and Cipher charged each other, their respective psychic swords clashing against each other.

“How did you get your arm back?” Cipher asked.

“Everything you're capable of, I am - only to a much higher level,” Azazel replied.

“We'll see about that,” Cipher answered as he slashed at Azazel, who blocked his slash and swept his leg out to trip him. Cipher jumped over his father's leg and kicked him twice.

“You've gotten stronger,” Azazel remarked. “I'm somewhat impressed.”

Cipher didn't answer that, instead opting to slash Azazel again. Azazel ducked and spun into a slash that cut through Cipher's shirt and the flesh underneath. Cipher bore the pain and let his wound heal while resuming the attack on Azazel.

As father and son battled, Amelia watched in both fright and fascination. The enmity between them was palpable, like a choking fog that covered the entirety of the battlefield.

The air around Azazel warped and lashed out at Cipher, knocking him back.

“You may be stronger,” he said, “but you're still nothing compared to me.”

“You think so?” Cipher asked, pulling out three senbon from one of his pockets and propelling them all at Azazel, who generated a shield to “catch” the senbon and propel them back at him. Cipher dodged and resumed the swordfight between himself and Azazel.

As their swords clashed, Cipher suddenly felt as though his mind was on fire.

“What . . . are you doing . . . to me?” he asked.

“It's a psychic torture instrument,” Azazel replied. “By forcing my mental presence into your mind, I am essentially psychically flaying you.”

Cipher managed a brief chuckle.

“What's so funny?” Azazel asked.

“This,” Cipher replied and formed his own mental presence into a blade that pierced Azazel's mind, generating a psychic feedback that knocked them both out.

When Cipher woke up, he was back in Titans Tower, resting on the medical cot.

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“A few days,” Nightstar replied. “I almost thought you'd never wake up.”

“Sorry I scared you like that,” Cipher said.

“It's all right,” Nightstar answered. “Long as you're here.”

“What happened to Amelia?” Cipher asked.

“She's back with her mom,” Nightstar replied. “Safe and sound, although they'll be moving away soon. My recommendation, so the Brain Trust wouldn't be able to find them so easily.”

Two days later, Cipher was about to leave Titans Tower.

“Why are you leaving?” Nightstar asked.

“Yeah,” Mercury agreed. “I mean, who's going to help me collect the entirety of Dead Man's Hand?”

“It's something I have to do,” Cipher replied. “What I did with Samara helped me realize some things about myself. Some things I'd been suppressing for a long time. Mainly, that I don't really know who Raziel Crestmore is. Then again, that's what happens when you hide behind other selves for so long.”

“And you think leaving will help you find out who you are?” Nightstar asked.

“I need to do this, Mar'i,” Cipher said. He reached out and stroked her face gently. “It's the only way I can be better, and I want to be better. I want to be the man you deserve.”

He kissed her gently.

“I'll see you again,” he whispered once he broke the kiss. “Of that, you can be assured.”

“I'll wait for you,” Nightstar whispered.

“You don't have to do that,” Cipher murmured.

“It's because I love you, Raziel, that I am willing to wait for you to come back to me,” Nightstar spoke, softly yet firmly.

“I know,” Cipher uttered. “I love you, too.”

And with those final words, he was gone.

End Notes: Don't worry your pretty little heads. For those of you that like Raziel/Cipher, he will return eventually. When that happens is entirely up to me, though, so don't pester me too much.

In the meantime, I have Arc 4 to start up, which will have Samara in the spotlight. Considering that she's the daughter of Raven and the granddaughter of Trigon (and also the granddaughter of Slade, given who her father is), I'm certain you can tell what that means. Be seeing you shortly. Just drop a review for me while I'm away.