Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ The Last Night of the Normal ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans.

 

Author's Note: This idea, I had gotten from watching an episode of the original Twilight Zone and thought about a teleplay of sorts. It's really no more than a writing exercise for me really, playing on a character I want to muse on and create some speculation. Also, a slight canon twisting to play on the revamp the anime has given us, nothing so drastic, I would think.

 

Beta: You know who, H.Moth's ears must be ringing.

 

Dedication: Neoinean, because I didn't get her a birthday present and for her own fondness for the particular character in this character study.

 

Timeline: Early Season One or just before the series, it doesn't matter.

 

Ready Go!

 

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

She kept staring at the ceiling; a ceiling sparsely filled with spots, stains, and a particle that looked like macaroni. It was one of the cleaner places in the room, between the sink that dripped brown water, the rotting walls or even her bed sheets. She let out a sigh and stared at a newspaper. She tossed it on top of a pile of newspapers strewn by the bed post. She didn't exactly care for the various headlines, “King Markov's secret daughter?”, “What will happen to Markovia now?”, “King Viktor Markov's empire may collapse”, and “Where is King Markov's illegitimate daughter now?”.

 

`Good plan, Jace. Hide her out in the dingiest part of Gotham City. No one would ever suspect.'

 

The phone rang and she picked up the phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Greetings, Ms. Markov.” She recognized the toneless voice all too well.

 

“What do you want, Dr. Jace?” She didn't hide her distain well.

 

“Well, Ms. Markov, how are you doing tonight?”

 

“If that's your way asking, “Have I been hounded by reporters and blabbing about Daddy tonight?” The answer is no.”

 

“Ms. Markov, I do apologize as we seemed to have failed to make your trip to the States clandestine as it needed to be, apparently the reporters found a flaw in our plans. Of course our bad timing to move you as there are rumors abound about a possible incoming war doesn't help matters. Our one saving grace is; no one has located you using the motel method and...”

 

“Who would follow me here in this rathole you set me up? Why don't you get a house already? I'm sick of doing musical rooms for the past two weeks.” She snapped.

 

“That leaves a paper trail, at least until we set up your new identity and cover our trails properly. Now Tara, please. Stop losing control of your emotions.” The doctor said in a stern toneless voice.

 

“I'm losing control? You and your fancy team are the ones that couldn't get control with the press. Don't blame me for this.”

 

“I am not blaming you, child but you need to control yourself. You might compromise everything if you don't.”

 

“Like we haven't with some of those experiments we've been doing? Bound to sound alarm bells eventually as I'm surprised something hasn't blown up.”

 

“Ms. Markov, I told you that the Terra project needs someone of Markov blood since the process seems to have a correlation with your father's bloodlines. We will need the research if war strikes out.”

“So I would become a hero and not be in exile if that was true?” Tara tried to hide her hope.

 

“Possibly. But, Tara, until those possibilities exist, this is the best way for now.”

 

“That's easy for you to say, doctor. You're not the one in exile. You're not the one the papers call “the downfall of Markovia”. You're not the one who is considered to be an embarrassment by everyone you meet! And you're not stuck in this motel room by yourself.”

 

“Ms. Markov, we have to have to separate hotels in order to maintain our secrecy.”

 

“Your secrecy you mean, I on the other hand might just get out of this place, march downtown and shout “I'm King Markov's daughter.””

 

“Ms. Markov.” Dr. Jace said in a stern tone.

 

“Oh relax—but if you don't get me a better motel room, I might just do that. Now leave me alone.” Tara slammed the phone down. She got off the bed and walked to the mirror on the adjacent dresser. She found another newspaper and chucked it to the ground. She then stared at her reflection, letting a few strands of her blonde hair cascade down.

 

“You chump. You really are the most stupid, rotten chump of all. All these little rich kids in these tabloids get to walk away with everything handed to them because of their parents and all that money and what do I walk away with, despite having a rich and royal father? A bagful of change?” She snorted and stared into the reflection of her cerulean blue eyes.

 

“With no dad around, what will you be when you grow up? Maybe I'll be a secretary or translator for one of those foreign mucky mucks, since I'm foreign just like them. Or maybe I'll be a foot soldier with this Terra project and end up a hero for the Motherland in this oncoming War and be praised all across the land. Might even get audience with the King.” The teenage girl laughed mirthlessly.

 

“Wouldn't that funny? If such a…bastard got that honor.” Her expression changed to hatred. “If such an embarrassment to the King could do all that to impress a man who wants nothing to do with her because…you're such a….” She almost wanted to punch the mirror but walked back to the bed.

 

“Yeah, what will you be when you grow up? What can I be?” Tara mused as she sat down, head in hands. She stared at her pillow.

 

“Can't sleep, can't go out, can't do…anything.” She sighed as she stood up and surveyed her dingy motel room. She picked up her butterfly hair clip, a present from her brother, Brion, off a nightstand before throwing it on the floor.

 

`How goes the world, Ms. Markov?' A female voice, identical to Tara's—but urbane and polished—spoke out into the silence. Tara raised her head, eyes darting about the room.

 

“Who…? What…?”

 

`Enjoying your trip to America and your banishment from home? The trip more turbulent than you thought? Bogged down by muddy tracks? How goes it, Ms. Markov?'

 

The teenager stood up and explored the room, the voice began to chortle and laugh merrily.

 

“It's a gag.” The voice continued to laugh.

 

“It's a gag huh?” Tara gave up in her search but her eyes still darted around. “All right, now, you made your point. Now where are you?”

 

`Where am I?' The voice whispered. `I'm between the frontal lobes, Ms. Markov.'

 

“What?” She slowly braced her back to a wall, eyes on the window and door.

 

`Inside your head—securely nestled in the grey convolutions.'

 

“Convolutions? Just what is that supposed to mean?”

 

`I'm inside your head, Ms. Markov.'

 

“My head?” The teenager chuckled as she walked from the wall, smacking her forehead.

 

“How you like it in there? How you like it in there? Are you comfortable, huh?”

 

The voice laughed again. `You have to excuse me for laughing, Ms. Markov, for it's a funny question. Comfortable inside your head? It's like sleeping in the midst of a parade on 42nd Street—noisy, crowded, uncomfortable. In fact I'm sick of it.'

 

Tara stopped slapping her head. “If you're sick of it, get out. If you're sick of it, get out of there!”

 

`Believe me, I wish that I could. It would be much more comfortable outside instead of being cooped up in that muddled up little brain of yours.'

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I'm your memory, your conscience, Ms. Markov. I'm every one of your aspirations and recollections. I'm every one of your failures and defeats. I also wear the medals and wreaths of all your victories. I'm what you call the “alter ego.”'

 

She slowly absorbed the new knowledge. “Ego? Big deal. What do you want?”

 

`I think the apt question would be, “What is it you want?”'

 

“That's a good one. What do I want? I don't need a thing. What do I want?” Tara walked to the dresser and lowered her head.

 

`You really are a stupid chump, aren't you? Excuse me, but that's what you call yourself isn't it? “Chump” or was it “bastard”?' She looked up and peered at a groomed and sophisticated version of herself in the reflection in the mirror.

 

“Why don't you get out of here? How do I get you out of here?”

 

`You don't, you don't. You live with me. In fact, you might find it very interesting; I know you very well, Ms. Markov. There isn't one thought that crosses your mind that I'm not aware of. There isn't one ugly recollection, one bitter little shame that I'm not aware of.'

 

“Bitter little shame? You don't know me from Adam. I've got no bitter recollections.” Her ire began to rise.

 

`Oh, come on, Ms. Markov. Look, shall we look into the history books? You were born to King Viktor Markov; you don't know who your mother is, your beloved true family figured your existence would sully the Markov name, so they sent you to the United States to live and avoid the scandals. In fact, it was your father who gave the order.'

 

“Of course he would, he can't risk losing the monarchy all because…”

 

`You don't even know why you were born. Drunken abuse of power? She seduced him and wanted his child? Even I am not omniscient.'

 

“It doesn't matter, I'm still here and he can't get rid of me.” Tara said with determination.

 

`No, but no one knows what to do with you either. Including yourself, and with no other options, like the fact you only have eight American dollars in your shorts, you're letting yourself be used by others as to give purpose, which explains why you're willing to be Dr. Helga Jace's guinea pig for her Terra project, with no success in the meantime. It seems your best job is becoming an experiment or being a go between for others.' The alter ego almost sneered. The girl looked away.

 

“I don't need you. I don't need you. This won't last, if the Terra project succeeds, maybe I'll be a superhero, maybe even bigger than these Teen Titans I keep hearing about. Then I can finally have a life and won't be used as you put it. It won't be any time at all.”

 

`You will need funds, capital, if you're going at it alone or find a team to accept you but given your past, what team would want you? Not if they want to be respectable.'

 

“Knock it off.”

 

`It is not like you'll get anywhere with your original plan with your family. Gregor doesn't care, Brion, he—at best—pities you.'

 

“Knock it off!” She craned her head back to the mirror.

 

`No, you need me, Ms. Markov. In fact you have desperate need of me.'

 

“Knock it off!” She went to the nightstand by the bed, pulled out the heavy bible from the dresser and threw it at the mirror. She went back to her bed.

 

“I'll show you, loudmouth. I'll make you eat every rotten word. I don't let people use me, I can use them too. I'm no pushover.” The teenager picked up the phone and began to dial.

 

“Collect call to Markovia, Brion Markov please. It's Tara.”

 

As she waited for her connection, she whispered. “Listen to this, listen to this.”

 

“Hey, Brion, it's me.”

 

“Tara, hello. I didn't expect you to call me this late.” The elder Markov sounded hesitant.

 

`Oh yes, he definitively sounds like he wants you in his life.'

 

“It's only 9:00 here.”

 

“Try 3:00 A.M.”

 

`Silly things, those time zone differences, particularly for those who live in them.'

 

“Oops. Sorry. Anyway, I need some money; I'm down to my last eight American dollars. I don't suppose my big brother could help out his little sister in her time of need. I need to get out of here.”

 

`Yes, groveling, that will impress the next in line for the mighty throne of Markovia.'

 

“Tara, aren't you staying with Dr. Jace?”

 

“Well, yeah but I'm miserable with her and her stupid experiments.” She sounded heated.

 

`Miserable is an understatement with you.'

 

“Don't be so harsh to Dr. Jace; she is the only one that can help you right now. You can't risk exposing yourself by going off by yourself, which is what the money is for, isn't it?”

 

“Well, I…I...”

 

`Try saying I…“was wrong” or “I…am sorry to intrude on you.”'

 

“Sorry, Tara, even if I could help, I can't, I have no money as the war is going to tie up my allowance anyway. I'm sorry.”

 

“Brion, I…”

 

“It's late; just call me when the doctor gets you situated finally, okay? Good luck to you. Good night.” He hung up on her.

 

`Oh yes, you sure used him to prove what a pushover you're not. Well, that's them breaks. They take but they never give. What're you to do now? Write a will and take gas?'

 

She got up and went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. She avoided staring at the mirror.

 

“He and his kind are just petty dictators, once I establish myself as a hero; I won't need him or anyone else. And certainly not you.”

 

`For all your complaining of being exiled, you should be grateful you have a chance to start over, and compensate.'

 

“Compensate for what?”

 

She walked out of the bathroom and glanced out the window. She noticed the alter ego staring back in the reflection.

 

`For the fact that you're an unwanted accident given flesh. For the unpleasant realization that all your life people want nothing to do with you.' She closed the curtains and walked near the broken shards of the mirror.

 

“I wish you were here right now, you hear me? I wish you were here.”

 

`Just look down…under your feet.' The alter ego spoke as she appeared on one of the larger shards.

 

`Ms. Markov, you know what you want? You want to be accepted. To find someone to accept you without having to dismiss you or shun you for whom you are.'

 

“Oh shut up! Shut up!” Tara stomped as hard as she could on the shard, fragmenting it even further.

 

`Easy, Ms. Markov. Easy does it. Easy does it. Now we get to the moment of truth—the ultimate. Now you hit pay dirt, kid. You get whatever you want.'

 

“What do you mean “whatever I want?”?”

 

`Tell me, what is it you want more than anything else on the earth? This is the moment, this is it. What is it you want, Ms. Markov? Name it—it's yours.'

 

“What do I want?” The girl slowly began to contemplate the possibilities. “What do I want?” Her eyes lit up with a certain sparkle.

 

“I want power. Power to have people step aside and see that I am here and that I matter. Power to move even the mountains of Markovia itself and have them bow to my feet. I want all on the earth to accept me as one of its own instead of shunning. I want people to quake in their boots instead of ignoring me, to see if I would or would not ignore them. I want to leave my mark on the world, my image forever carved on the stones of the earth for all to remember. You hear me? I want that. I want that kind of power, the kind my father and brothers have. Damn you, I want that power!” She said with a rage but slowly began to calm down.

 

“You're just a figment of my imagination, but that's what I want. As if you'd deliver like everyone else has? Like Dr. Jace and her stupid Terra project; she made the same kind of promises.” She sighed. “This has been a long night, I need sleep, good night you stupid voice.”

 

She collapsed on the bed and entered a long but restless slumber. The last sound she heard was rain droplets outside as a drizzle came down on the city.

 

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Thunder and lightning clashed as Tara slept onward, tossing and turning. She slowly stirred from her sleep.

 

`Have a good rest, Ms. Markov?'

 

“Yeah, I had a good rest.” She woke up and noticed herself in a dripping cave with a fissure above right next to her, dripping with water. The girl looked above and noticed the alley from the motel in far view.

 

“What the? Where am I? How did I get here? I want to go up there.” A stone began to rise out of the ground beneath her and hovered.

 

“Whoa!” She thought about the rock hovering below her and wanted to get down and the stone dropped to the ground.

 

“This is just…I don't know.” She thought of the stone again and it hovered again.

 

“Is this me? I just willed the rock to come down and it did.”

 

`Like what you see?'

 

“Am I dreaming? Is this a dream?”

 

`A dream—oh, come now, look, touch the stone that fell.'

 

“Yeah, alright.” She crouched down and felt the rigid stone.

 

`Yeah, that's it. Now touch the cavern wall.'

 

“Yeah…” Tara went over and ran her fingers on the wall.

`These are all solid objects—width, height, thickness and reality.'

 

“Yeah...yeah. What is this?”

 

`You had your heart's desire. You didn't ask for a two hour escape with Morpheus. You wanted power, Ms. Markov. You wanted the power to as you put it, “to move the mountains of Markovia itself and have them bow to your feet.”'

 

“Yeah. I wanted power.”

 

`You wanted power to have all the earth accept you. The whole earth is now at your command, how is that for the ultimate acceptance? You don't have complaints that you want to trot out, do you?'

 

“Complaints? Do I have any complaints?”

 

She willed several rocks to orbit around her, she just chuckled.

 

`Ms. Markov.' The girl continued to resume.

 

`Ms. Markov!' The voice broke the teenager's attention and the rocks plummeted on the ground.

 

“Yeah?”

 

`Like the new sense of entitlement do you?'

 

“I love it. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to call Dr. Jace and tell her I don't need her Terra project anymore. I'm going to tell I got powers without her experiments now.” She got on the stone she was on and willed it to the opening, but her flight plan was all zigzags. She jumped off before the stone crashed into the ground.

 

“I'm okay, I'm okay. A minor setback. When I tell her this, she's going to flip.” She said in almost delight. The girl looked up and noticed the gaping hole on the wall of where her room is.

 

`Really, pal, are you that certain to burn your bridges like that? Tell me, you hate your past that much to hate those that are in it too?' The alter ego asked as Tara got past the clerk for another key to her room. Apparently the transportation to the cave below didn't disturb any of the other occupants as the motel was as quiet as it was when she first checked in.

 

“Like they did anything for me. Jace sees me as a lab rat and Gregor is too busy with the royal family and Brion with the Terra project to care about me, what's the point of having them around?” She snapped back as she entered her room. She found the phone and began to dial.

 

“Hello.” Dr. Jace said in a tired voice.

 

“Hey, I just came to tell you that I don't need your Terra project anymore. I got powers of my own now.”

 

`All by herself too.'

 

“Really now, child. I find that impossible as we're just in the infant stages of the project. And what are your powers?”

 

“I can make rocks fly for one. I can control them.”

 

`A superpower that every kid on earth wishes he or she had.'

 

There was a long pause before the doctor spoke again. “Tara, you must come to my motel immediately, I didn't expect such a rapid development this soon. You must not lose control of yourself or otherwise…”

 

`Wait for it…'

 

“I lose control? I am perfectly in control and I don't need you anymore to use for a kingdom that wants nothing to do with me! You can go back to your king and tell him to look out where he sits or relaxes next; or he'll find a diamond where the sun don't shine. Tell my brother that he can be your lab rat next; I don't want anything to do with him, either. With my new powers, I'm going to find people way better than both of you, people who will accept me, goodbye!” She slammed down the phone.

 

`That's great—that was wonderful. You managed to flex your muscles in a most impressive fashion. At the rate you're going, people will be flocking to you no doubt. Particularly if you want to be a superhero as you said before.'

 

“Superhero? Oh yeah, well, there will be better people than those two. There has to be, right?”

 

`You're the one who wants to be accepted, you tell me.'

 

“I'm a good judge of character, I'll find them yet.”

 

`If you say so.' The alter ego said apathetically.

 

“You don't believe me, do you?”

 

`Well, so far you just haven't impressed me.'

 

“Well, I will. I will. At least now I got the power to do it but…this is what Dr. Jace said the powers would be if the Terra project was a success. Does this means that it did succeed after all?”

 

`Yes and no, her experiments were nudging your systems along and were creating a good base, I on the other hand just gave more of a push and made it blossom.'

 

“You can do that?”

 

`You'd be surprised at what I can do.'

 

“I bet.” She snorted as the phone rang. She hesitantly picked it up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Ma'am, I am getting complaints from the other occupants that you're getting too loud.” The motel clerk spoke to her.

 

“Oh. How is this? Is that better?” The girl spoke in a softer voice.

 

`You and quiet? Not a combination I would think of when it comes to you.' Tara ignored the alter ego again.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good.”

 

“I am also calling to tell you that you'll be getting an international call from a Mr. Gregor Markov, when he gets done with his meeting with his father, I think that was how he put it.”

 

`Your older brother who you never met, nor is he aware of a thing about you. That should go real well.'

 

“Oh. Did he say anything about what he'd be calling me about?”

 

“No, ma'am.”

 

`I love a mystery.'

 

“Did he say what time?”

 

“An hour at least. Do you want me to patch it through if he calls tonight?”

 

`You'll be up, we have much to discuss before I let you go.'

 

“Yeah. I'll be up. Thank you. He knows the number, right?”

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

“Fine then, thanks very much.” She hung up.

 

`I'm sure the suspense won't kill you much.'

 

“I'm more confused anyway, so it doesn't matter. I don't know why he'd be calling anyway.” She then lied down and her eyes wondered to the alter ego in the reflection of the glass of the framed artwork. The teenager got up and peered at it.

 

“Hey, tell me, who are you? What's all this “alter ego” stuff?”

 

`Well, I'll tell you, Ms. Markov. I'll try to make it as simple as possible. I'm the fate every man, well, everyone but in our case, woman applies most but I'm getting into semantics now, I'm the fate every woman makes for herself. You generally find me at the bottom of the barrel. I'm the strength dredged up in desperation, I'm the last gasp.'

 

“That's supposed to be clear? Oh you're just nothing.” She got on her knees and turned the frame around to the wall.

 

`Oh, I'm something. Really, I'm something. In some cases, I'm something very good. In some cases—depending upon the person I'm representing—I can work miracles.'

 

Tara sat up and paced around “You can?” She stood by another piece of artwork framed in glass.

 

`I come with heroism, sacrifice, strength and even better than that, I can epitomize everything noble in the human race.'

 

“You can, huh?”

 

`Now, in your case, Ms. Markov, your requirements are quite small.'

 

She began to lather in rage. “What do you mean “quite small”?”

 

`Your dreams were rather insignificant, your aspirations hardly worth mentioning. I mean to say, if you wanted to help people, or care about others even though you weren't cared about, that would've been quite the lifestyle, wouldn't it? You wouldn't need some kind of power for that. Would you? That way, you would have proven how superior you are to your country.'

 

“Yeah, that would have been something.” Tara ruminated as she began to pace around again.

 

`Or if you'd asked to perform an act of heroism to play into your superhero motif let's say then that would've been qualification of the acceptance from others you seek. This, too, would've been exemplary, right?'

 

“I suppose that would've been alright, yeah.”

 

`But as it is, Ms. Markov, what was your heart's desire?'

 

“Well, I wanted…I wanted…I…”

 

`You wanted power, power in a sense that all on the earth would accept you as its own, including the rocks and the dirt, all at your command. You wanted your face on the stones on the world, well you can carve them yourself now. You come real cheap.'

 

“I don't come cheap. All I ever wanted out of life was the fact that I could walk down the street and people not stare at me like I was a freak! I am not cheap, buddy. I don't come cheap; I got my heart's desire.”

 

The phone rang and Tara rushed to the phone.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Hello, Tara, this is Gregor Markov.”

 

“Yes, sir.” She didn't know how to address the most likely heir of the Markovian throne. It was the first time she ever spoke to her brother.

 

`I don't think “hello, bro” would help you in this situation.'

 

“I do not know if you are aware of this but we have heard rumors of an invasion but father and I are making preparations, in case, for the worst. I know of Father's…decision to ban you in hopes to avoid scandal and I am…unsure of his decision.”

 

“Unsure?” She wondered if she should get her hopes up.

 

`I wouldn't if I were you.'

 

“Yes, I may be above you, but I wondered what it would be like to be your shoes, to become an embarrassment for your people.”

 

“Yeah.” The girl didn't care for his elevated approach but did not want to dash any hopes by opening her mouth.

 

`Yes, don't call him an ass even though he is for he holds your future.'

 

“And I am sure you are filled with resentment; with proper cause, I would not want to be part of that resentment but sadly, to accommodate reality, you had to be exiled. However…”

 

“Yes?”

 

`The black pot of gold at the end of the fragmented rainbow looms ahead.'

 

“However, I am aware of the possibilities of war and how the reigning monarch may be disposed of by an attack. If so, then I would be the king and could reverse some of his edicts.”

 

“Reverse?” She felt light at the end of the tunnel.

 

`Light? I'd go with a sparkler myself.'

 

“I do not know how I can manage such an appeal, but I do recognize that the royal family might need you in case the worst happens and there might be no trace of our family left. I wish my father would have observed that fact before his decision. One item I need to make clear is that your return to Markovia may not happen at all, depending on the outcome of the war. So don't get your hopes up.”

 

“I see.” She didn't care; it was a chance for her for acceptance.

 

`It's the same old game, carrot and the stick. Or should I break out the ominous organ music?'

 

“I'll keep you appraised. I need to call your companion Dr. Jace, as Father and I have mused on the superhero dilemma on other nations and realizing what disasters the entrance of such chaos could do to our nation. Unlike the other nations who are crumbling with this policy such as Zandia, the need for purity, of one pure species, should be mandatory and as such, we will be disbanding the Terra project and outlaw all metahumans from our country. I realize that Dr. Jace was experimenting on you but her research has not yielded results, yes?”

 

“No, it hasn't.” The alter ego snickered slightly in the background.

 

“Good, we can't very well have metahuman experiments if we've banned metahumans, can we? I need to call Dr. Jace and inform her as well. Sleep well, Tara.”

 

“Thank you, sir, I do hope things turn out that way and I appreciate you wanting me there. Thank you so much. Goodbye.” The girl finally let her emotions flood her as the possibility of returning home was simply too tantalizing.

 

“What do you think now, loudmouth? Everything might be going my way after all!” She nearly jumped up and down on the bed.

 

`One phone call and you're top dog, huh?'

 

“If for once, God doesn't make his punching bag, then Gregor might be repeal my exile and bring me back if he takes over the throne. Glad those experiments didn't take after all, so I'll be home yet!”

 

Thunder began to roar and the alter ego fell apart in a paroxysm of laughter.

 

“What's so funny? What's so funny? Eh? What's funny of me maybe going home…” She felt her room shake.

 

“Wait a minute, I have powers. I have powers. I have powers!” The room began to shake faster and her eyes began to glow saffron. “I am a freak now. I'm a freak!” The room began to crumble quickly, the floor giving way.

 

“No! No!” She noted the hairclip tumbling into a fissure; she caught in time and looked down as she noted the occupants in the room below her fall into another fissure, screaming to their deaths.

 

She screamed in horror as she fell in but landed on a hovering stone. The structure was falling all around her. The stone clumsily ripped out of the wall and she watched from above as the earthquake consumed the dilapidated motel. Any other screams were quickly extinguished.

 

`Congratulations, Ms. Markov. You've just committed murder.'

 

“No! It wasn't my fault! I just lost control of myself, that's all! It's not my fault!” As she screamed into the drizzling sky she heard other earthquakes, all around the motel began to wreak their vengeance on the artificial structures surrounding it. She began to cry as one by one, the buildings began to dissolve.

 

“Heal me! Heal me! Please!”

 

She crashed on the ground and saw people trying to flee from the crumbling buildings but could not as many fell into the fissures. Some of their words and screams cut off by the thunder.

 

“Please, please make me normal…! I'll never ask for anything again! Please make me normal…” She sobbed and ran out into the streets; the tremors began to follow her in pitching intensity as soon the whole city began to be consumed by a major earthquake.

 

`That was the point, you were normal, Ms. Markov. You had the potential to be anything you wanted to be but you took the obvious, easy road to get what you wanted—without the hard work that comes with it. But at least now you're no more different than the majority of humanity who want the same thing but don't care about the consequences or the work, so in that respect, you are normal.'

 

That was the last time the alter ego spoke. One of the final things Tara focused on as she left Gotham City was a news report.

 

“Gotham City in ruins as an unprecedented earthquake ravages the city, cause unknown, tens of thousands are dead. The U.S Government has declared Gotham City a no man's land, locked out from the outside world. The vigilante known as the Batman has disappeared and may be declared deceased in the epicenter. Millionaire Bruce Wayne is currently in top secret negotiations in the other states, trying to rally support for Gotham… ”

 

“I am no longer Tara Markov.” She mused as she created a swath of bizarre earthquakes, mudslides, and avalanches from coast to coast.

 

“All of the earth is at my command now, I am…Terra.”

 

 

------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Canon Nazis, forgive if I was off on Gregor or Brion. One never quite characterized and the other, I'm just going on instinct either way. My sources covered the latter well enough but not the former.

 

For those who are curious, this was based on the fifth season episode “The Last Night of a Jockey”. A minor sequel to “Nervous Man in a $4 Room” which I thought fit Terra's character, both written by the master himself, Rod Serling.

 

Leave a review if you wish, see you in the funny papers.