Teen Titans Fan Fiction ❯ The Real World: Titans Tower ❯ "Team" Titans ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Disclaimer: The New Teen Titans were created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez, and my story is only borrowing those characters—as well as influences from other writers such as Geoff Johns and the staff of the animated series. However, the new takes on these classic characters are my idea and nobody better take them either :-P
“All Star Teen Titans”
“The Real World: Titans Tower”
Episode 3: “Team” Titans!
Robin—Dick Grayson: Arrogant former circus star, acrobat extraordinaire and hopeful ladies man.
Wonder Girl—Donna Troy: Adopted sister of Wonder Woman, bestowed with the powers of the Amazons.
Speed—Wally West: A bitter, living embodiment of the mythical Speed Force.
Cyborg—Victor Stone: Half flesh, half machine—all human.
Beast Boy—Garfield Logan: Goofy, insecure animal shapeshifter and former member of the Doom Patrol.
Raven: Cynical empath shrouded in mystery.
Starfire—Koriand'r: Honest, caring newcomer to Earth capable of flight and generating energy blasts.
This is the true story of seven teenaged superheroes, picked to live in a house, fight crime together and have their lives taped, to find out what happens when heroes stop being polite, and start being real. The Real World: Titans Tower.
***ON THE AIR—TITANS TOWER, KITCHEN***
Finally, after arguments and the fight with Doctor Light interrupting them, the Teen Titans had eaten their first breakfast—which sadly enough was much more impressive an achievement than one would think. Of course, nobody wanted to take responsibility for the mess, so while bowls with the last crumby remnants of cereal, plates covered with sticky syrup, and used silverware and napkins were strewn the about table, only two of the teens remained.
Garfield Logan, who now had several plates clumsily stacked at his spot on the table, was messily eating a tofu-waffle. The whole waffle hung precariously on his fork, and the green boy held it above his head, taking giant, fast bites like a shark emerging from the ocean to gobble up a swimmer. Across the kitchen, Wonder Girl leaned against the counter, cell phone glued to her ear, shaking her head sadly at the sight of her slob teammate.
Wonder Girl: “Ew.”
Beast Boy: “Man, do I love food! Though I really don't know whether I've got a huge appetite or if it's just `cause tofu isn't that filling. Oh well, small price to pay to not eat meat.”
Fortunately, Donna Troy's conversation was mostly distracting her from Beast Boy. “So what do you think of my idea, Kyle? I mean, getting these ragtag kids into a real team would finally be my purpose for being here! I'm the only one who can do it!”
Beast Boy rolled his eyes as he ripped off another chunk of waffle with his fangs.
“Oh, thanks Kyle! I knew I could do it, but hearing it from you makes me feel so much better!”
Beast Boy: “Ugh, breakfast ain't gonna' stay down for very long if this keeps up …”
Wonder Girl: “When I first arrived in man's world, Kyle was the first man I ever met. He's shown me so much, helped me get adjusted to his new life here, even helped me search for my parents when he had the time! I owe him so much…
“I just wish he was around more. His work keeps him so busy!”
Donna chuckled and started twirling a few strands of her hair with her fingers. “Yeah, well with all the training techniques you and my sister've shown me, it should be a piece of cake. Should being the key word, because these kids don't seem to have any idea on how to take orders…wish me luck Kyle.”
Sighing, Gar dropped what little of his food remained and slunk out. He was a pretty easy-going guy, but even his buttons had finally been pushed.
Beast Boy: “Now I think I know how Wally feels.”
***OFF THE AIR—LOREN JUPITER'S OFFICE***
While not especially big, Loren Jupiter still wasn't a tiny man by any means. However, standing next to Slade Wilson—better known as the most dangerous mercenary alive, Deathstroke—he felt like a munchkin. Even out of costume Slade was an imposing man, commanding respect without even having to act—but in costume, he was almost inhuman. Jupiter had thought himself prepared for encounters such as this, but nobody was ever prepared to meet Deathstroke.
“So, I'm assuming there's somebody you want me to kill,” began Slade, used to having to take the lead in conversations. Slade had been in this line of work for ages, before any of the Titans were even born. Many might argue that he was the best because of this experience, but they'd be wrong. Slade had been the best since the day he first picked up a gun.
Of course, undergoing a super-secret government experiment that had unlocked his brain's fullest combat potential had ensured he would always be the best. Slade had never failed a mission. Never.
“Not exactly,” mumbled Jupiter, working up his nerve. He'd been mentally preparing for this for quite a while. This wasn't Slade's normal job, that's for sure. He doubted the mercenary had ever been asked to hold back. “See, I'm more interested in this superhero team, the Teen Titans. They have a reality show on MTV and…”
“You want me to kill a whole team?” Slade interrupted, sounding almost amused. “I'm pleased that you have so much faith in my abilities, but it's going to cost you more. A lot more. And taking on capes is going to raise the price even further. I've learned from experience that when you kill capes, their friends don't take it very lightly.”
Jupiter allowed himself a slight grin. “You're scared of the Justice League?”
“Scared?” Deathstroke's eyebrow arched fiercely. “Certainly not, Mr. Jupiter. I don't fear them—but I do respect them. Not even I could take on the JLA's full roster all at once—and I'd rather not waste my time having to outrun them.”
“I understand completely,” replied Jupiter, “But I don't want you to kill them.”
Slade was stopped dead in his tracks. “Come again?”
“I'm the director of the Titans' show, and I'm hiring anybody I can to take them on—to make them look good. I want you to look as menacing as you can. Injure them, maybe even defeat a few. I need you to look like a credible threat—not like that nimrod Dr. Light. But at the same time, you need to let them look good. And in the end…you need to take the fall.”
Suddenly Slade's fist tore into Loren Jupiter's desk, cracking it in half. For a second he thought of the conniption Ms. Clay would have when she saw the mess, but his mind quickly turned toward the bigger threat—one very pissed mercenary looming over the remains of his deck.
“You want me to LOSE?!”
***ON THE AIR—TITANS TOWER, TRAINING ROOM***
When the seven teens now living there first saw Titans Tower, several of them wondered why they would ever need such a large headquarters. As Dick Grayson stood in the middle of the expansive two story training room, he instead wondered just how everything fit.
Rafters, pipes and acrobatic bars filled the air at different elevations. The walls were covered with targets, and the room littered with human-shaped dummies. In the center was a large boxing ring, created sturdy enough to even survive the sparring sessions of super-powered teenagers.
And as this room's first user, Dick had made an impression. Dummies were battered and some even split—an unfortunate few had razor edged, red boomerangs lodged in their heads. Several smoking, empty bases were all that remained where some had stood. Half a dozen grappling hooks still hung limply from the rafters. The former circus star that had done all that damage, meanwhile, was furthering his path of destruction. A fire burnt in the teen's eyes.
Robin: “Dr. Light tried to make a fool outta' me, attacking before I could even bother to learn what all this stuff was. Well, I'm not letting it happen again. Yesterday if you had asked me what a `bolo' was I'd have had no idea, but now I'm a bolo-master! All this s---—I'm a master. A few more hours of this and I'll be the best there is. Just like it should be.”
With a double-somersault the acrobat soared above one dummy and landed directly behind another—spinning into a lethal martial arts chop he tore through its chest, sending stuffing flying through the room.
Dick stopped to catch his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. He had kept on the mask, which stopped his perspiration from dripping into his eyes, but besides that had changed into a muscle shirt and shorts in order to keep as light as possible—which looked odd as he still wore his utility belt as well.
“These dummy f---ers are too easy,” panted Robin as he walked to a control console and scanned its buttons. “Hm, now this looks like a worthy challenge.” As the teen made his choice the wall before him slowly rolled open, allowing a blue and green training robot to lumber into the room.
Staring up into the mechanical combatant's robotic eyes, Dick Grayson could only utter an awestruck, “Holy s---.”
And then he was off, leaping above the machine's first punch while reaching for his belt. Spinning in mid-air Robin tossed several disks packed with potent explosives—which did nothing but dirty the robot's torso.
Dumbstruck, he landed with one eyebrow raised and his jaw dropped.
Robin: “Those might've well been firecrackers! If my explosives are going to be so useless they could have at least given me some g--damn EMP discs or something!”
Fortunately, the acrobat wasn't so stunned that he didn't notice another attack, and he just barely managed to backflip over a second punch. It was an impressive maneuver, but the training simulator seemed to be programmed for one-upmanship. Boosters in its hips flared as it span, its other metallic claw grabbing Dick in mid-air.
Robin: “I should have known it would end like this when the machine listed it as an exercise for Wonder Girl.”
Fumbling at his belt, Robin pulled a random gadget and managed to free one arm—only because it was so slippery from sweat. Raising his arm into the air, Dick noticed he was holding his staff. Better that than nothing he figured as he jammed the tip of the rod into the machine's robotic eye—sadly, the effort was futile.
Robin: “You ever do something horribly stupid `cause you're desperate knowing it's not gonna' work but hoping it will anyway? Well, I just did.”
Dick Grayson's eyes grew wider and wider as he realized that, not only might this be his end, but if it was, then it was being filmed! Fortunately, that fear wouldn't have to come to life. A shimmering green beam of energy rained down from above, literally disintegrating the training robot. Robin, meanwhile, found himself caught long before he hit the ground—and in the arms of a bronze-skinned beauty at that. He couldn't have wished for a better rescuer.
“That was a close one,” smiled Starfire. “It is a good thing I was watching you, no?”
Not really thinking, Robin nodded eagerly in agreement. “Boy am I glad to see you.”
Robin: “And feel you too! Hold me tighter my love!”
The acrobat crawled out of the alien's arms as she landed on the ground smoother than butter. Suddenly a random thought soared into his mind. “Wait, you were watching me? How long were you there?”
Starfire scratched her chin as she thought back—Robin couldn't help but notice how her nose scrunched when she was thinking. It was kinda cute. “It was after breakfast,” she finally said. “I believe when I arrived you were talking about…'ebolas'?”
“Bolos,” corrected Dick as he laughed to himself. Then he shrugged. “Well, guess I should always have a spotter anyway. Hey, want to spot me in bed tonight?” He flashed a grin as the last words left his mouth.
The otherworlder was confused by his statement. “Why would I need to watch over you in your slumber? Has a pack of wild Flemshires been seen in the area?”
Starfire: “This is such a strange planet, and the humans do not make it easier. At times it is as if Dick is speaking another language all together!”
Either Robin knew when to drop a subject, or his attention span was completely diverted by the staff he suddenly remembered he was holding, but regardless the conversation underwent an odd shift. “Say Kory, you know how to fight with a staff?”
The alien's eyes lit up. She may not have understood the mind of a horny teenage boy, but the art of combat was something in which Koriand'r was most fluent. “Of course,” she said with a smile as she grabbed a wooden staff from a weapons shelf. “I have been trained in all forms of armed and unarmed combat known by the Warlords of Okaara—and few armies in the universe are more skilled than they.”
“Warlords of Okaara?” asked Dick with one eyebrow raised. “Are they part of the Empire or the Rebels?”
“Um,” stammered Kory, “I believe they once squashed a rebel insurrection, if that is of what you speak?”
“But I thought the Rebels won in the end?”
Robin: “Could she be more clueless?...Eh, what do I care, she's f---ing gorgeous!”
Starfire: “I try my best to understand what everybody means here, but it is so difficult sometimes I fear I will never get it. I am the Princess of Tamaran and a seasoned warrior and I cannot even make small talk with him?
“Well, even if I cannot understand his words at least he is pleasant to look at.”
“So why do you wish to learn the art of staff combat?” Starfire asked, deciding to change the subject to something she actually knew about for once. “You seem much more adamant than I would expect.”
Dick looked at his staff then sighed. “Light made a fool out of me…and I got cocky. It's been years since I had to learn a whole new set of skills, and I kind of forgot I had to work at it. I'm used to being the best—and honestly I am the best—but I worked damn hard to get there.
“And I'm not leaving this room today until I've mastered every one of these weapons. Having traveled world-wide with Haley's Circus I've got a couple martial arts disciplines under my belt, but I never had a chance to work with a staff. But that's one of the weapons Jupiter gave me, and I'm going to learn to use it!”
Koriand'r was impressed. “Of course, you realize that I am…much stronger than you are. You could get hurt.”
“Well, I'd rather get beaten by a hot chick than some thug,” smiled Robin. “Do what you must, I'm ready for anything.”
Starfire: “Just when you think you know somebody! I may not understand this world, but some things are the same no matter where you are. No matter what Donna says, he has the heart of a warrior.”
Of course, Starfire never hesitated to speak her mind. “You are a true warrior, Dick Grayson.”
His ego inflated even more, Robin's smile spread until it covered the entire bottom of his face. “Hell, and here I just thought I was hot and talented.”
Compared to the training room the workshop provided for Cyborg was much smaller, but it still took an entire floor of the titanic tower. Machines of every sort lined the walls and floors—what precious little space they didn't take was filled with spare parts and assorted gizmos. Victor Stone now stood hunched over a workbench, happily toying with a fragile disk of minute circuitry. A tiny blue flame flew from one of his fingers, a more than suitable replacement for a large blowtorch.
Cyborg: “I'd always been a pretty good student I guess, but still I was never really into school. I was an athlete. I could be inside acing a quiz, but the whole time I'd be daydreaming that I was outside, catching a pass, making a tackle, winning a race. I always knew I'd be in the pros one day. I never doubted it.
“Then the accident happened. After that, even if I'd have been allowed to play, it wouldn't have been a challenge anymore. I was the freakin' million dollar man—stronger, faster, all that stuff. It just wasn't fun when I knew I couldn't lose.
“For a long time life in general just wasn't fun. Y'know, I can kinda relate with Wally, `cause I sure as hell know I felt like that for the longest time. I had a lot of great people help me through that time, when I couldn't help myself. And as soon as I was out of my funk, I made sure I'd never be helpless again.
“So the first thing I did was master robotics. I mean, my tech is the only reason I'm still alive, and I wouldn't always have somebody around to repair me if something bad happened. To my surprise, it was interesting—really interesting. Enough that now I'm totally into it, even in my free time. Tech has opened a whole new door to me. And with it, I can keep bettering myself too.
“As an athlete I was constantly able to better myself, push myself to new limits. Maybe my robotics define my physical abilities now, but not my mental. I can better myself like this instead. Tech gave me back my control of my life. It's a good feeling.”
As Vic fused the last few resisters and microcircuits together, dozens of alarms blared in his head. He could hear the intruder, see it on several spectrums of light—even the room's security system brought an alert to life in his bionic eye. If the machine-man wanted to, he could have turned and blasted it to oblivion—but he knew it wasn't a threat.
Instead, Victor Stone just smiled. “C'mon Gar, you know you can't sneak up on me.”
Behind the cyborg a tiny green spider grew larger until the spindly frame of Garfield Logan, the amazing Beast Boy, was hanging upside down on a gossamer thread. It may have had the proportionate strength of steel, but Gar no longer had the proportionate size of a spider, and as the changeling regained full size the thread snapped and sent him sprawling to the floor, lying flat on his back.
Beast Boy: “Gah, I can never get that Spider-Man crap to work!”
Crawling to his feet and dusting off his tights, Beast Boy leaned over the massive metal man's shoulder and stared at his new invention. “So, what'cha workin' on?”
Cyborg grinned as a hatch in his fluorescent blue shoulder popped open, and he inserted the chip into an empty slot. “It's an invention to use against Dr. Light if he attacks us again.”
A perplexed look fell across the green kid's face. “Um, isn't he, like, in a coma?”
Vic shrugged. “How long do you think that'll last? Guys like him always come back, and when he does I'm going to be prepared.”
Though Gar Logan was half-listening, much of his attention had been captured by a large, blue contraption resembling a hair dryer. Still, he managed to mumble a, “So what's it do?”
As Gar poked at the contraption, it tipped back and forth slowly until it fell and hit the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces. Suddenly he found his tiny arm in Victor's vice-like grip.
“Can't tell ya',” he said as he pressed a button and a tiny, self propelled vacuum rolled onto the scene to clean the debris. “Everything we say is getting aired on television, bro. If Light is watching then all my work would be for nothing!”
Beast Boy: “Note to self: check to make sure I'm not giving away secrets by sleep-talking again.”
Watching happily as his invention rolled back to whence it came to unload the mess, Cyborg didn't even look at his friend as he asked, “So, why'd you sneak down here anyway? In the mood to wreck my stuff?”
Gar blushed and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Nah, I'm hiding from Donna. I want nothing to do with her stupid training.”
The machine man was sincerely confused. “What? Why?”
Cyborg: “I mean, sure Donna'll probably be a little self-righteous about it, but it's not like we don't need some training. You think acting like a team would be easy, but I've re-watched the data I got from the Light fight and man was it a mess!
“Raven had Light beat early on until Wally knocked him away, I attacked Donna as well as Light, and we had no strategy or plan. I mean, the only reason we survived was `cause Dr. Light didn't either.
“We need a little training, I think.”
“Oh please Vic, you know why,” sighed Beast Boy. “She doesn't want to teach us to fight better, she just wants to make herself look good! Besides, I've already got teamwork down-pat. She keeps forgetting I was a part of the Doom Patrol! I've got just as much right to train you guys as she does!”
Trying not to offend Gar, Vic paused a second to think before he began. “Well… I really don't know if anybody would…well…listen to you, bro.”
Beast Boy released a deep, frustrated breath. “Yeah, everybody here treats me like a kid.” Pausing for a second, the green kid slowly looked towards his mechanical buddy. “Heck, even you did back in that battle! What was with telling me to stay back?”
Even the metallic half of Victor Stone's face blushed as he took a hesitant step backwards.
Cyborg: “Damn. I've got no excuse for that one.”
“Well,” stammered the metal man, “I just didn't want you to get hurt—I didn't want anybody to get hurt.”
Cyborg: “I mean, that's why I'm here: to stop people from getting hurt. To be selfless after all that wasted time being selfish.”
Gar growled. “Yeah, but then your attack tagged Donna too!” His growl turned thoughtful as he scratched his chin. “Maybe we need the training after all…”
Suddenly Wonder Girl's voice boomed from the loudspeaker. “Attention all Titans! Combat practice starts in five minutes in the training room! Attendance is mandatory!”
Finishing his thought, Beast Boy quickly spat, “But doesn't mean I'm going to be there!” In a split second he was out of sight, most likely a green fly buzzing through the room somewhere.
The cybernetic eye of Victor Stone lit up as he snickered to himself. “Nice try Gar, but you know I can find you no matter how small you get!”
***THE BEDROOM HALLWAY***
The long hall that contained the entrances to the rooms of the seven teens looked empty to the naked eye—however, that limitation didn't really apply to half the members of the new team. Air rippling in one corner of the room, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sign that Speed was hiding out here, wasn't even what tipped off his teammate to his hiding-spot.
Really, Raven could find anybody with the only the most minimal of effort, as long as they felt. And honestly, everybody feels emotion. Well, perhaps everybody besides the empath herself.
Thus, in typical Raven fashion a bird-shaped field of pure darkness exploded around the specter, prompting him to quickly take solid form as she emerged from the black.
“You better cut that out,” growled Wally, “Before you give somebody a heart attack.”
The eerie, glowing white eyes of Raven arched. “You know you have no literal heart, Speed. That is not an issue here.”
The speedster's energy-formed teeth gnashed. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me witch.”
Speed: “Not like I don't have to realize that myself every day…”
Raven: “I can obviously feel that it is a very touchy subject for Speed, but if this is so then he should not have used the euphemism in the first place. It is pointless to hold my tongue just to account for his carelessness.”
“The insults are not appreciated,” said the empath as she turned up her nose to her teammate. “And your anger never has been. It is consuming you—I sense that you can think of nothing else. Tell me, why are you even here?”
Wally West just rolled his eyes. “None of your business.”
Speed: “Believe me, you'll find out when everybody else does. I sure don't intend to keep it quiet.”
Not yet feeling vindicated, not even wanting to hear Raven's response, the energy being spat more malice. “And don't talk about my anger consuming me. I'd like to see you handle losing everything! What are you, some spoiled little witch goddess thingy that can do anything she wants with her powers? Don't judge me until you've gone through half of what I have!”
The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Raven was looming over Wally, almost seeming to grow larger. “You would be wise to take your own advice, Speed, lest I show you some of my life.”
Raven: “If there is anything more prevalent than stupidity in mankind, it is hypocrisy. It is an epidemic.”
The two unnatural beings exchanged heated stares for a second before Raven finally decided to stop spending her energies on the pointless dispute. “Regardless, Wonder Girl has summoned us for battle practice. Why are you hiding?”
Even Speed couldn't help to laugh at how obvious the answer to her question was. “'Cause Donna's an arrogant b----, duh.”
Not necessarily disagreeing, the empath shrugged. “That is what provides drama, Speed: conflict. And the fans want drama. Now, I suggest you come with me, lest you not last long enough here for whatever little surprise you have in store.”
Speed: “Conflict? Drama? Oh, I'll give them that all right. In spades.”
“Fine,” Wally spat with venom in his voice, “You win this time.” In a yellow flash he was gone, tiny flames following his trail on the floor.
Raven didn't look proud of fulfilling her mission—in fact she hoped to seem emotionless as she prepared to teleport back to the others. However, though she wouldn't show it on camera or dare admit it to the confessional, the witch eagerly hoped to have a chance to screw with Speed's head. He deserved it.
***OFF THE AIR—LOREN JUPITER'S OFFICE***
“You want me to LOSE?!” Mr. Loren Jupiter, director of The Real World: Titans Tower, lay flat on his butt on the floor of his office, the remains of his desk scattered around him. It looked like a war zone, but all that damage had been done by a single fist—that of Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, the most deadly mercenary alive.
Jupiter wanted Slade to take on his team of Titans and lose, thus making them look good in the process—and raising ratings through the roof, or so the fashion-challenged director hoped. Of course, Slade had never lost—a man of his stature wouldn't even dream of it!
“Can one consider it losing, Deathstroke,” began Jupiter as he slowly inched backwards, trembling, hoping to be able to regain his footing, “When you're being paid to do it? When you're fulfilling your contract? Your professional standing won't be hurt one bit.”
Slade didn't look impressed by his logic. “Doubtful. This is airing on television, and to keep your charade running you can't explain it to your viewers.”
Despite his situation, Jupiter allowed himself a laugh. “I doubt anybody with the money to hire you is in our demographic.”
Raising an eyebrow, Deathstroke simply said, “You never know who will need somebody killed.”
“Five times your normal salary,” bartered Loren, not waiting for the discussion to go any farther. He pressed a switch hidden in the wall behind his desk, and five suitcases stuffed with money emerged from secret compartments in the other walls.
Giving them a quick glance, Slade didn't seem impressed. “Ten,” he began with his normal calm, cold tone. “Ten times for me to even consider it.”
Loren Jupiter's heart skipped a beat. Even he didn't have that kind of money! Fortunately for him, as he scanned his office he noticed something possibly even more valuable that he did have.
“Five times, plus this,” Jupiter said, smiling as he presented Deathstroke with the comatose body of Dr. Light.
The masked mercenary scoffed. “What do you expect me to do with that?”
For once, Jupiter's inside info came in handy. “Please, I've heard what you did to your children.” Slade grunted. “Mind control serum would go perfect with this empty shell of a light-controlling super-villain.”
He wanted to not be interested, but that offer seemed too good. What a perfect weapon he could be! Still, that wasn't everything to this deal. “What other restrictions are there? What about civilians?”
Jupiter's grin almost even crept out Deathstroke. “I don't care about them. Do what it takes to make this fantastic! Just don't use Light yet—too suspicious.”
If one imagined hard enough, it might just be possible that Slade was smiling under his mask. “Jupiter, we might just have ourselves a deal.”
***ON THE AIR—TITANS TOWER, TRAINING ROOM***
Wonder Girl floated above the her six teammates, a pointer stick in hand, glaring down at them like she was Patton, ready to deliver a speech and send them to war. They, however, weren't quite so intense.
Beast Boy yawned and in general looked distracted, wishing he could be anywhere but here. The gnashing of the energy Speed used as teeth filled the room like bass thumping from a ricer. The shadow of Raven's cloak obscured even her eyes, and her body didn't move—it was possible her mind was somewhere else entirely, in meditation. Though grumpy his personal training had been interrupted, Robin's gaze moved back and forth between Kory and Donna, reminding him how lucky a guy he was to be here. Of course, Starfire herself eagerly anticipated the combat part of the practice—and Cyborg was eager to work out the kinks in the team's cooperation.
“Okay guys, I think we've all seen how bad our teamwork was in the fight with Dr. Light.” Donna started floating back and forth, slowly tapping the pointer in the palms of her delicate hands. “Obviously, something must be done if we don't want to die—or if we want to at least have at least a tiny sense of professionalism.”
Speed: “I love her sense of priority.”
“Some of you may not like it,” continued the Amazon, her pacing-like floating coming to a pause for a second as she turned towards her audience, “But we need a field leader—someone to make the tough calls in battle and actually organize things. Due to my experience with the Justice League in the past, I think I should be the one appointed to the role.” Suddenly her gruff expression sweetened—probably falsely—as she flashed a smile. “Any objections?”
“Would it matter?” grumbled Wally under his breath.
Meanwhile, Gar tried to get the nerve to say something. “Well, I was in the Doom Patrol…I know all about teamwork.”
Raising an eyebrow, Wonder Girl commented, “Aren't they dead?” Gar blushed.
Beast Boy: “Well, yeah…but it's not `cause they weren't good! They sacrificed their lives to save civilians! You're just mad `cause they were probably the only heroes around that didn't join the League!”
“I think you'd be perfect for the job, WG!” Dick called, winking. “Everybody needs a leader they look up to! I'd love to look up to you!”
Robin: “Especially if you were wearing a skirt…”
Wonder Girl: “Well, the only support I'm getting is from Dick—surprise surprise. Oh well, I didn't think this would be easy. But in the end, they'll be thanking me for this. We'll be a team any self-respecting hero could be proud of.”
Taking the lackluster reception in stride, the Wonder Girl marched on. “If everybody cooperates this should be easy. If it's hard, it's only cause you're making it hard.”
Dick Grayson leapt at the chance. “Baby, if I'm hard you're probably to—”
“Don't finish that.”
Wonder Girl's growl was enough to even stop the horn dog in his tracks. Beast Boy snickered under his breath.
“If we're going to look professional, there can't be any comments like that in battle. Present yourself as you want to be seen.”
Again, it was too much for the acrobat to resist. “You mean in a swimsuit, girls swarming around me?”
“Enough you two!” In an instant Cyborg was between the two, holding them at arms length, not even giving Donna a chance to retaliate. “Quit egging her on,” he growled as he pushed Robin back. “And you,” he continued, turning his sights for Wonder Girl, “If you're going to be our leader, you better watch your temper.”
Speed: “Good going tin man. Put her in her place.”
This time it was Donna's turn to blush.
“I think I speak for everybody here when I say I don't want to get my ass kicked again,” Victor continued, not pleased with what he'd seen. “We can grow into a respectable super team—teach us to fight together and be coordinated. That's why we're here!”
“Yes,” Wonder Girl said, a little humbled—and very much embarrassed, though she didn't want to admit it and humiliate herself even more. “I was going to get to that, but Cyborg's right, that's what we need to work on first.”
Beast Boy: “Yes, now that's my buddy! Way to go Vic!”
Starfire: “I have not yet seen Donna's true skills at teaching, but as of now I say that Vic would make a perfect leader!”
Cyborg: “I know Donna has the experience to show us some really cool stuff, and I know we all have the skill to follow it and be great. We just need some prodding I think…”
“Well, shall we get started then?”
***THE NEXT DAY***
Twenty-four hours later, the Teen Titans again stood in the same line up. Countless books could be filled with their first day of training—it would likely be entitled “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”
However, somehow a slight order had been found. The barest fringes of a team was formed. If nothing else, these teens could be called “competent.”
“Okay guys!” exclaimed Wonder Girl, her whole face lit up in excitement. “After yesterday I'm really psyched to be here! I think today we can really get this down pat and move on to some even more important points!”
Suddenly a giant view-screen came to life—Loren Jupiter's mug greeting his champions with a conceited, calm expression.
“My Titans, I have your first mission.”
“About time,” grumbled Wally West. “Every time we've seen you you've been going on about this!”
Jupiter chuckled. “Sorry Wally, but super-villainous crimes don't grow on trees. And this isn't going to be easy. Just watch!”
As quickly as it had appeared the director's face was gone, replaced by an imposing masked figure. He had a gorgeous, buxom blonde held in his grip, a sword to her neck.
“My name is Deathstroke,” announced the villain, his voice sending chills down the Titans' spines. He seemed not to even notice his hostage's struggling as he continued. “If the Teen Titans do not arrive—and only the Titans—in the next fifteen minutes, this girl will die.”
As the mercenary finished his statement, the camera panned back to reveal that Slade was standing on the roof of a large building—and as the camera scanned the rest of the block, he decided to add, “Not to mention everybody else in this entire block. I do hope to see you here, Titans.”
Robin: “Finally. A chance to prove myself!”
Wonder Girl: “Finally, a chance to prove ourselves!”
Raven: “Finally, a moron I can actually do something about.”
Cyborg: “Finally, a chance to do some good!”
“Well?” interrupted Jupiter. “You guys going?”
The Titans nodded.
Next time: A Chance to Shine!