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Gotham's Dead End Bar Ch.37
🕑 Added 2024-03-30 15:33:13 +0000 UTCThough Damian would never admit it, he missed Gotham when he wasn’t there. The city had grown on him. Slightly. Only enough that he didn’t hate EVERYONE in it like most places he visited. Just most people.
Gotham still had nothing on the city of his birth — ‘Eth Alth’eban. But then again, not many cities could claim the benefits of having been built by an immortal like his grandfather. While Gotham lacked the adventures he’d grown used to during his childhood with the League of Assassins, it had its own version of ‘fun’ to offer.
‘Fun’ like its many colorful villains and heroes. Some of them could even put up a good fight. His siblings, obviously. Even if they could be trying and tiresome. But Damian had been surprised when he found that Harley Quinn in particular showed herself as a worthy opponent for him to test himself against. It almost made being restricted by Father’s rules worth it. Almost.
Recently (in relative terms), another aspect of Gotham’s ‘fun’ had emerged onto the scene. Sean Caine, his partner Didi, and their Dead End. Though Damian’s start at the Dead End could be considered rocky, it too had since grown on him. Specifically, the irresistible revelation that Damian now knew as ‘headpats’.
Those hypnotizing headpats weren’t the only thing the Dead End had to offer. Father ‘praised’ (for as much as he could praise anything) the bar’s neutrality and the de-escalation that came with it. Sister Barbara fumed at the overwhelming, paperwork-creating stories told within. And Sister Cass simply would not SHUT UP about Sean himself.
But all of those aspects of the Dead End paled before the majesty of headpats in Damian’s eyes. Truly, he did not know what he was missing until he experienced it for the first time. What was the proverb Grandfather had come across during his immortal travels? Ah, yes. Damian had eyes but he could not see Mount Tai.
Unfortunately, Damian had recently become too preoccupied to make nightly visits to the Dead End and refresh himself with glorious headpats. His attention was, in fact, caught up on the entire opposite side of the country. It had been too long since he felt the relaxation of a good scalp ‘scritch’. Too long, indeed.
Still, he would not be derelict in his duty. He was needed in San Fransisco. Needed with the New Teen Titans. And so he begrudgingly made the greatest sacrifice of his career, leaving the Dead End and headpats behind only temporarily, unaware that a doorway to his salvation now existed in his new city for him to find.
Being on a team of heroes that wasn’t entirely composed of his family was a strange development for Damian. But assuming it was another one of Father’s tests, he was committed to giving this new team his all.
Perhaps the strangest aspect of it all was being appointed as the leader of the team despite also being its youngest member. Cyborg was 19 — almost aging out of the ’teen’ in Teen Titans. Starfire was a fresh-faced 18-year-old alien princess. Raven would be turning 18 in only a few days now. Beast Boy was the second youngest at 16. Which left Damian as the youngest by a significant margin at a ‘mere’ 14 years of age.
Damian was well aware that age did not necessarily mean authority. After all, he was younger than Tim or Jason but he’d be damned if he was lower in the Bat Family than either of them. HE was the current Robin, after all.
Though he would never admit it, that assured confidence was shaken slightly by being made to deal with and lead those outside his core family. At first, that is. Over their short months working together since the team’s formation, Damian had developed satisfactory relationships and familiarity with the rest of the Titans.
And it wasn’t as if there were many options for the team’s leader. The only one Damian would have considered besides himself was Cyborg — Vic. He was the oldest member of the team and Damian would have happily followed him if he’d been chosen as leader.
Beast Boy — Garfield — was too immature for the moment. There was a good chance that he would buckle under the weight of decisions that a team leader had to make. Personally, Damian had faith in the boy he was begrudgingly coming to call a friend. Faith that Garfield was secretly much more mature than he seemed.
But Damian could also see why Father would not wish to take that chance if he didn’t have to. Other than Garfield and Vic, the girls’ situations made them difficult choices for the team’s leader. Starfire — Kori — less so than Raven — Rachel — but still difficult.
Kori wasn’t actually as immature as she might seem at first interaction. She merely came across that way due to her constant energy and optimism. No, the real problem with her being team leader was her naivety and unfamiliarity with Earth culture.
Raven — the only one on the team who preferred to be called by her heroic alias over her birth name — was a whole other quiver of crossbow bolts entirely. She seemed mature and stoic at first glance. And she was, to an extent. But that impression was slightly forced — ‘faked’, even — by the strict emotional control she held herself under.
Then there was her personal situation to worry about. Damian was not privy to all of the details there. But Raven had opened up to the team slightly in the days leading up to her 18th birthday. They now knew that there was a non-zero chance that something grievous would happen on that day but also that Raven had been working hard by herself in preparation. And that she was confident she could prevent the worst from coming to pass.
That situation was far from ideal but Damian couldn’t rightfully address the potential situation without knowing more. Raven hadn’t been the most forthcoming about details. She was utterly steadfast in dealing with her issues herself. Damian didn’t feel that he or the team had earned enough trust to try and command otherwise.
So while Damian was prepared to go in with a contingency plan if necessary, he rather hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. At the core of it, Raven’s situation seemed to revolve around family. So it shouldn’t be anything they couldn’t deal with even if the worst came to pass… right?
“Robin. We’ve got action,” Vic’s voice came over the communication device in Damian’s ear.
Damian shook himself out of his thoughts, “Copy. Team, converge on Cyborg’s position. We’ll be there in less than a minute, Cyborg. Can you hold out until then?”
A grunt came in reply, “I think I’ll be fine. But it’ll be close. This fucker’s slippery.”
“Language,” Raven’s voice — deadpan and sarcastic even by Damian’s standards — interjected on the channel.
Garfield laughed at the ‘joke’, “Yeah, Cyborg, we’ve got sensitive ears listening here!”
“Sensitive ears?” Kori’s confused voice asked. “Like ticklish? How does one tickle the ears?”
“Comms,” Damian cut the team off before they could devolve into their usual antics. “What are we looking at here, Cyborg?”
“Oh, you know,” Vic’s reply was tense with forced composure. “Just ‘mercenary stuff’. ‘Best mercenary in the world’ kinda stuff…”
“Deathstroke,” Damian realized. “Do not engage, Cyborg. Keep his attention if you can but I repeat, do not engage. None of us will be able to beat him on our own.”
“Yeah, I might have noticed that when he almost cut my GODDAMN ARM OFF!”
“Language,” Raven deadpanned, repeating her ‘joke’. Damian could almost hear a hint of amusement in her constantly flat tone.
“I believe he is speaking English, friend Raven,” Kori replied.
“Yeah. I know. That’s the joke.”
A clap of realization came over Kori’s hot mic, “I see~!”
“Uh, guys? Maybe we shouldn’t be distracting Cyborg while he’s fighting the world’s best mercenary…? Just an idea,” Garfield chuckled awkwardly.
“F’ing thank you!” Vic all but shouted in frustration.
Thankfully, the comms fell silent after that, leaving Damian to quickly pull together a plan of action. For this mission, they’d been tipped off about a heist at San Francisco’s Asian Art Museum. That was all of the information they’d had before now and the team had been left to guard the venue in case something did happen after hours.
While the others weren’t fond of being put on stake-out duty, it had always been a favorite of Damian’s. It was uniquely calming. Sure, it meant he and his team were relegated to a purely reactionary role but it also gave him time to put his thoughts in order. Something about being on the edge between ready and relaxed always helped with that.
Now, the perpetrator had made himself known. And immediately, questions surfaced in Damian’s sharp mind. Deathstroke. This wasn’t a job he would usually take. His services were available for hire, yes, but he usually took on more ‘active’ roles than mere artifact heists. It was quite unusual to see him knocking over a museum instead of taking a kill contract of some kind.
But ultimately, the questions would have to wait until Damian had more information. Their first duty was to foil theft and protect the artifacts and exhibits on display. Any potential captures came after that. Of course, that duty would be made much easier if they knew what Deathstroke was actually after.
In a place like this, the options were many and varied. It was something of a target-rich environment for thieves. As far as Damian knew, none of the artifacts were anything more than mundane. But he also knew better than to bank on that fact with a selection of artifacts this large. Something magical or secretly technological could have easily slipped under the radar.
Their best course of action was to simply run Deathstroke off. To make completing his mission harder than it was worth. One of the perks of dealing with a mercenary opponent. They weren’t known for their undying loyalty.
Damian would be surprised if the team could defeat Deathstroke even if they all worked together perfectly. He wasn’t called the best mercenary in the world for nothing. He was skilled enough to match Father in almost every field. Add an enhanced body and intellect on top of those skills and you had a daunting opponent that even Father would have to be cautious against.
Damian took note of his surroundings as he moved to reinforce his teammate, trying to narrow down Deathstroke’s target by eliminating the exhibits he passed. Nothing European, American, or African. As the sounds of fighting drew closer, Damian decided it had to be an artifact of Asian origin. Something that should perhaps have been obvious by the museum’s name — the Asian Art Museum — even though it contained exhibits from all over the world.
The process was pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on the here and now. Garfield — in the form of a green wolf that came up to Damian’s chest — dashed past him as Vic came into view. Kori flew overhead in the museum’s spacious halls, her hands already glowing green with her starbolt energy.
Raven came to fly along beside Damian, almost casually floating on the backs of shadows. Damian wasn’t fooled by her apparent relaxation, knowing she was just as dedicated to heroics as the rest of them. She simply didn’t show it the same way.
“So where do you want me, Robin?” Raven asked without even a bare hint of inflection in her voice.
“Area control,” Damian ordered, not stopping for a moment to speak. “We’re going to want to prevent damage wherever we can. Collateral is unacceptable.”
Raven gave a slight nod, her face mostly hidden by the shadow of her hood, “Understandable. I know I certainly don’t want to pay off a priceless artifact if we break one.”
“It would not be fun,” Damian grunted almost absently. “Can you sense anything we should know about?”
“No. I can barely feel Deathstroke. He must be remarkably well-disciplined to pull that off.”
“That and more. Keep an eye on the others. He doesn’t typically pull his punches very well.”
“Dangerous?”
“Deadly.”
They didn’t say anything more, didn’t have to. Raven could sense how serious Damian was, even more so than usual. And considering how serious he usually was, that was saying something. She’d have to keep herself alert in return. Maybe a slight emotional field to make sure Garfield didn’t goof off at a bad time as well…
Vic was already experiencing why Deathstroke was not to be taken lightly firsthand. The damned merc had just jumped down from the ceiling and tried to take his fucking arm off! Sure, it was the mechanical one and it would have been easy enough to recover when he had the moment but still! It was the principle of the matter!
Cursing to himself, Vic rolled. Right into a kick that shook his metal bones. Deathstroke’s downward slash was a feint. And in dodging it, Vic had opened himself up for an easy hit.
He felt like he could barely catch his breath. Damian had said to only keep Deathstroke’s attention and not engage. Something that was a WHOLE lot harder when you were the one fighting the damned merc! None of Vic’s arm cannon shots had even gotten close!
Deathstroke was practically toying with him. Casually dancing circles around him since before their fight even started. That sword of his was sharp enough to slice through the floor and walls like butter. And the one time Vic thought he’d landed a blow — a wicked right hook that would have laid out just about anybody —, it had simply… slid off the merc’s suit.
Reinforcements couldn’t come quick enough in Vic’s mind. Something that Damian seemed to pick up on. Garfield was still a bit too far away from the fight at the end of the long museum hall. And Kori’s energy blasts wouldn’t do much to take the pressure off Vic. Deathstroke was more than good enough to dodge and fight at the same time.
“Throw me,” Damian said, turning his head to Raven.
The request gave her the briefest moment of pause but she didn’t argue, trusting that he’d seen something in the fight that she hadn’t due to inexperience, “… One flying Robin. Coming up.”
Damian drew his sword — a shorter, straight, single-edged blade reminiscent of a wakizashi without the curve — and a Batarang in his off-hand to be used as an improvised dueling dagger. Shadows became real around him, taking hold of his body. Then he was shot forward as if from a catapult.
“Cyborg. Duck!” Damian called out bluntly as he raced through the air.
Swearing under his breath, Vic complied. An instant later, 120 pounds of spite, fury, and pure freaking death zipped over his head. The clash of steel against steel rang out like a bell. Damian used the momentum of his short flight to slide his blade down the length of Deathstroke’s, aiming for the hand that wielded it.
Deathstroke was forced to give ground for the first time in the fight, taking a step back and ducking to disengage. Damian used the rest of his flying momentum to flip over Deathstroke’s head in a move that shouldn’t have worked. He came down on his feet with almost feral bared teeth, crouching slightly and ready to pounce again in an instant.
“Boy Wonder,” Deathstroke greeted casually. “It’s always strange to see one of you Bats outside of Gotham. How are you? Have you found the time to stop by the Dead End recently?”
“Don’t think you can tempt with honeyed words of commonality, villain,” Damian snarled. “We are far from the neutrality of the bar and the soothing headpats that keep me pacified there.”
Vic was brought up short by the exchange, reacting with clear confusion, “Hold up, what? Huh?!”
Kori arrived just in time to hear the exchange and cock her head to the side slightly, “I am also of the confusion. Do you know this foe, friend Robin? Is he the new friend instead of the new foe~?”
Kori sounded like she was getting excited at the end there. Damian cut that off before it could take root, “No. He’s still a villain. No friend at all.”
Deathstroke shrugged, “I’d like to think we’re at least amicable. It makes for the most profitable relationships and I’ve seen you more than a few times at the Dead End, little Robin.”
Garfield skidded to a stop nearby when he saw that they weren’t fighting anymore, shifting back to his base human form, “Huh? Dead End? What’s that?”
“The holy land of headpats,” Damian claimed, his voice blunt and serious as ever.
“And good drink and better stories,” Deathstroke added.
“So a bar?” Garfield asked.
“Headpats?” Kori’s head cocked to the other side at that. “I must admit to more of the confusion.”
“Headpats,” Damian nodded in confirmation. “Nothing else compares.”
“How excitement~!” Kori clapped.
“Dude,” Vic deadpanned. “What the Hell are you talking about?”
Garfield laughed a sound of disbelief, “Yeah, for real. Sounds like you two have lost it!”
Damian nodded again, “Insanity is a known side effect of the Dead End and Mr. Barkeep’s activities.”
“Wait, Mr. Barkeep? Is there a bartending hero in Gotham?!”
Deathstroke’s expression wasn’t visible through his full-face mask but his smirk was audible, “Something like that.”
“Are we actually going to fight here?” Raven asked in that flat voice of hers, casually floating into the scene. “Or are you all just going to talk like coworkers around a water cooler?”
“Ah… I suppose we should,” Deathstroke sighed. “I still have a job to do.”
“So do we,” Damian glared at him. “You won’t complete your mission here, Deathstroke.”
“Yeah! Whatever it is!” Garfield added enthusiastically.
Damian’s scowl deepened but didn’t say anything. His displeasure was still noticed.
“What? What’d I say?” Garfield asked, lost.
“Ah, I believe I know this one~!” Kori exclaimed, excited to contribute. “You have given away ‘the game’! The villain now knows we are at the disadvantage!”
“Oh, dammit,” Garfield groaned. “That’s my bad, guys. Sorry.”
“Interesting team you have here, Boy Wonder,” Deathstroke said to Damian as he got ready for the fight to restart. “Cute and inexperienced. But I’m sure you kids have plenty of potential to work with. Go ahead and give me your best shot. And don’t try holding anything back. I certainly won’t be.”
With an audible growl, Damian leaped back into the fray at Deathstroke’s invitation. His blade — forged and honed by trials since birth — lashed out like a snapping snake. It only tasted air as Deathstroke easily evaded the strike.
His deadly response forced Damian to use the Batarang in his off-hand. Deathstroke’s enhanced strength still thrust Damian off balance. He let himself move with the blow, thrown to the side to recover and try again.
The rest of the Teen Titans quickly joined the battle. Garfield shifted into a lumbering polar bear, hoping to rely on overwhelming power. That strategy quickly failed as Deathstroke judo threw the charging bear form over his shoulder. Garfield was sent flying much like Damian before him. But he adapted, shifting into a more nimble big cat form and pouncing back into the thick of it.
Vic and Kori stuck to their strengths, peppering the air with various blasts of energy. Having to control their fire not to hit their teammates greatly diminished their effectiveness in that field. As did the almost negligent way Deathstroke avoided their firepower. As if he always knew exactly where they would shoot next.
Damian dashed back in for round three. His first lunge was dutifully deflected. As was the sideways slash he tried to follow up with. Then he found himself frustratingly clashing with Garfield as they both tried to navigate melee combat around a much, much more experienced opponent.
That was the real issue here, Damian mused mid-fight. The gap in experience. Both when fighting alone and when fighting as a team. The New Teen Titans were… well, new. While they’d made good progress together, their teamwork still wasn’t enough to match someone of Deathstroke’s strength and skill. Neither was their individual experience, with Damian being the most versed in actual combat by far.
It was a… vexing situation to find themselves in. ‘Big Cat’ Garfield leaped at Deathstroke with claws and teeth bared. A terrifyingly intimidating sight. Not many people could hold fast when facing down an apex predator with a human mind. Unfortunately, Deathstroke was more than up to the task.
Damian frowned furiously as he was forced to abort a strike that would have hit his teammate instead of his target. And in the end, Garfield’s interference was ineffectual. Deathstroke just stepped into and under Garfield’s pounce, slashing upward with a strike that should have disemboweled the green-tinted hero.
Thinking quickly, Damian launched his off-hand Batarang at Deathstroke mid-attack. The throwing weapon bit into the mercenary’s hand as best it could through his armored suit. The crippling slash was turning into a mere glancing blow. But the brief exchange was still much too close for comfort.
“Fuck, man! Careful! That thing’s sharp!” Garfield exclaimed.
“It’s a sword,” Deathstroke deadpanned in reply. “That’s the point.”
Damian dove back in, snatching up his spent Batarang and clashing with Deathstroke yet again. Eyes narrowed in furious concentration, Damian tried to slip his nimble blade into the mercenary’s guard. Two fingers pushed the sharp stabbing sword away, casual as can be. Damian threw himself down and in, following the redirected momentum to try and catch Deathstroke off-guard. In an instant, he found himself trapped beneath a boot-armored foot, unable to find any leverage to escape.
“Friend Robin!” Kori cried.
Vic swore under his breath, “I can’t get a clear shot!”
“Careful, little bird,” Deathstroke tutted down at Damian. “You’re getting reckless. And I’m sure you know what that leads to…”
Damian glared up at him. A subtle hand reached down to his utility belt. But before he could extract himself from the predicament, Kori crashed the scene.
She abandoned her ranged attacks, the role she was most useful in for this fight. In a matter of mere blinks, she was upon Deathstroke, flying in like a heat-seeking missile with glowing green fists. She reacted without thinking to the sight of her friend in peril, throwing away the team formation that Damian knew was their current best course of action.
“Aaarrrggghh~!” Kori yelled at the top of her lungs. “Take the this! Stand of stillness, villain!”
The only positive of the sudden change of situation was that Deathstroke was forced to release Damian and direct his attention to Kori. She whaled on the mercenary with flying fists and protective rage. None of her attacks found any purchase at all. Deathstroke didn’t even have to break a sweat to weave around the impromptu berserker the alien princess had become.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Kori released a roar. A wide-area blast radiated from her hands. For the first time in the fight, one of the Titans’ attacks was successful. But it was quickly shown to be largely ineffective despite actually hitting Deathstroke.
The mercenary was sent flying through the air. He tumbled with the blow, quickly regaining control of himself. With almost contemptuous ease, he landed atop one of the museum’s exhibits — a towering totem of some kind. Only a moment later, he leaped off it as his landing destabilized the artifact.
“Oh nos~!” Kori gasped in panic.
“Raven!” Damian barked a preemptive order.
“No need to yell. I’ve got it…” Raven’s reply came so flat that it almost sounded bored.
Shadowy tendrils reached up from the ether to set the totem right. Deathstroke intently observed the exchange from his new perch atop another, more stable exhibit.
“Trying to prevent collateral damage, I see,” Deathstroke sighed. “Ah, the limitations of playing hero.”
Still, he wasn’t above using any and everything to his advantage. A pistol was pulled from a holster on his hip. Without even seeming to aim, the mercenary took a shot, aimed away from any of the Teen Titans.
“Shit,” Raven swore, the exclamation coming out strange through her monotone.
She manipulated her shadows. They just barely obscured the vase exhibit that Deathstroke had aimed at in time. The bullet shot into the darkness as Raven redirected it through her shadow dimension. It came out of another shadow on the opposite side of the room, directed into a wall where it should have impacted harmlessly.
It didn’t, instead ricocheting off the wall to ping against Vic’s metallic behind before wasting the rest of its energy buried in the floor. Vic understandably jumped at suddenly being shot even if the bullet did no real damage.
“Jesus, fuck! You just shot me in the butt! Watch it!”
“Sorry…” For once, Raven’s flat tone wavered ever so slightly, tinted with frustration and self-loathing.
Garfield couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, “Heh… Buns of steel.”
“Not fucking funny, Beast Boy!” Vic shouted.
Deathstroke shook his head, “Children. Worse, children playing at hero…”
“Oi!” Garfield took audible offense at that. “That’s it! Cyborg! Fish Cannon!”
Vic looked at him in utter incredulity, “Fish Cannon?!”
“Fish Cannon!” Garfield confirmed, shifting back to his base form. “I’m pulling out all the stops!”
Standing tall, he shifted for the final time in the fight. The action came with a strange sound. Something between a bleat and a squawk. An animal cry of some kind. None of them could hope to identify what animal it came from until Garfield finished his transformation.
Then suddenly, in the middle of a museum — where it might rightfully belong — stood the penguin to end all penguins. Tinted Garfield’s signature green, it stood proud and even taller than Vic at the top of its head. The massive flightless bird flapped its powerful flippers in a display that was far more intimidating than it had any right to be.
Deathstroke let himself sigh internally, half in amusement and half in exasperation. He figured he might as well throw the teen heroes a bone here. Besides, Mr. Barkeep would likely be upset if he ended up actually harming little Robin. No contract was worth that prospect.
“Alright, you got me. I surrender,” Deathstroke said, sheathing his blade and holding up both hands empty.
“Say, what?!” Vic gaped at him.
Deathstroke scoffed as if the cyborg was the unreasonable one there, “I know better than to mess with penguins. Your teammate wasn’t lying when he said he’d pull out all the stops. You don’t get much bigger guns than a massive extinct penguin.”
Vic’s mind bluescreened — literally, “Huh…?”
“May I ask why?” Kori asked curiously.
Though the Titans couldn’t see it, Deathstroke smirked beneath his mask, “Let me put it this way. When it comes to ‘Fight or Flight’? Penguins only have one option.”
“Oh, of course~!” Kori gasped as if that made all the sense in the world. “I was not aware the flightless bird was the Earth’s greatest of predators!”
“That…” Raven started to disagree but just ended up rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”
Damian glared at Deathstroke suspiciously, “You expect us just to believe your surrender, snake?”
Deathstroke rolled his eyes, the expression again going unseen by the Titans, “I mean, I’m not going to let you capture me but I’m also not going to fight you anymore. Not worth my time and my contract isn’t worth the effort. Come back to me once you’ve worked out the kinks in this little team of yours.”
“Hng,” Damian grunted, unsatisfied but also not arguing with the mercenary’s point. “Fine. So why do all of this? Why take a heist contract instead of your usual MO? What were you even after here?”
“You mean you don’t already know my target?” Deathstroke asked, his head strangely tilting to one side a bit.
“No,” Damian spat. “Should we?”
“I suppose not, no. Don’t mind me. Just a curiosity,” Damian didn’t like the amusement that he could now clearly hear in Deathstroke’s voice. “As for why this contract… well, I thought it would be easy money.”
“Hold up,” Vic raised a hand in confusion. “You’re just gonna tell us? No ‘-then I’d have to kill you’ bit either?”
“Yeah, shouldn’t there be like…” Garfield shifted back to his base human form. “I dunno, Mercenary-Client confidentiality?”
Deathstroke scoffed, “Kid, I’m not a doctor or — Didi forbid — a lawyer. There’s no such thing as confidentiality or true loyalty in my line of work.”
“Huh…” Garfield paused. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“Anyway,” Deathstroke continued. “I was hired by a loathsome fellow who called himself Brother Blood to steal a magical artifact from here.”
Raven hissed so slightly that it might as well have gone unnoticed, “… What artifact?”
Deathstroke shrugged, “The Book of Discord. Some little-known grimoire or something. I honestly didn’t pay much attention. As you might be able to tell, I’m not terribly invested in this particular job.”
“Should we be of worry, friend Raven?” Kori asked.
Despite her emotional control, relief practically poured off Raven, “Not since Deathstroke seems to be giving up his mission. I know of Brother Blood. He’s bad news. As is the Book of Discord. It’s an emotional magic grimoire and we should see about moving it from the public eye as quickly as possible. If it fell into the wrong hands… well, I hope you like emotional zombies.”
“But we don’t have to worry about that, right?” Garfield clarified nervously. “‘Cause it wasn’t stolen? No zombies?” He shuddered, “They freak me out, man.”
Damian hadn’t taken his eyes off Deathstroke and could still see the amusement in his posture. Something wasn’t quite right yet.
“Why did you think we already knew your target?” He interrogated.
“Well, I just assumed…” Deathstroke began, all too casually. “That your pitiful attempt at engaging me in combat was a diversion. And that the Indian girl with pink-purple hair who snuck off with the book during the thick of it was one of yours.”
Stunned silence followed Deathstroke’s reveal, to his great entertainment. Damian’s scowl had never been deeper. Both at the insult to his team’s skills and the fact that they hadn’t even noticed being third-partied.
“Oh dear,” Kori worried with a frown. “So the book is of the missing?”
Garfield whimpered slightly, “Z-Zombies…?”
Raven’s flat voice delivered the understatement of the evening, “That… is not good.”
Vic’s visceral reaction was more appropriate for the situation’s severity, “Sure as shit doesn’t sound like it!”
IIIII
Jinx was bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored! This city blew. Why had she come here again? Oh, yeah. ‘Cause the luck was calling out to her here. The only problem with that portion of her magic was that she could never tell if that luck was good or bad.
But considering the absolute ‘nothing’ she’d gotten up to since coming here, she was leaning toward bad. The most fun she’d had was that little run-in with a team of heroes her age. She wasn’t even aware that San Fransisco had a hero team. They had to be new on the scene, though she did recognize one of them as Robin ‘cause, like, who wouldn’t?
Even that bit of action was only fun for a little while. Jinx had gotten to play a few tricks and pranks but nothing more. Not really. Then she kind of lost interest in the heroes after they’d chased her off. It wasn’t her fault that the only way to have any real fun was to do illegal things.
At least there was some good eye candy to be had with them. Robin was too young for her tastes but that green shapeshifter boy was kind of cute in a goofy way. And the cyborg guy was just one big hubba hubba hunk of man and metal~!
Yeah, Jinx could see herself in the middle of that sandwich. Mmmm~… Green boy as the lettuce. Cyborg boy as the bread and meat and… metal? The metaphor kind of fell apart there pretty quickly. Oh well, she’d just have to make it work anyway. Those boys seemed worth it~!
Still, Jinx didn’t know when she’d get a chance to flirt with the heroic eye candy any time soon. She didn’t even know if she’d be sticking around this city for much longer. There were those ‘Fearsome Four’ nerds who wanted her to join them but honestly? Laaaammmmeeee~…
So until she decided what she was going to do next, Jinx was left just wandering the streets of San Fran. And trying very hard to ignore the stench of shit the city never seemed to lose. Seriously, just eww.
During that wander, a twinge of luck caught her attention. With nothing better to do, she followed it. At least this way, she’d be guaranteed SOMETHING interesting. The trail led her to some museum or another. Jinx didn’t even care to read the name out front.
Slipping inside was simple with a bit of probability manipulation. A conveniently unlocked door here. A conveniently unwatched hallway there. A flickering camera. And so on. Once inside, Jinx heard sounds that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a pitched battle.
She grinned. Now, that’s what she was talking about! At least something was happening to alleviate her boredom! She followed the noises, coming upon a scene and stopping to watch for a few moments.
It was those teenage heroes again. Teen Titans. And they were fighting some ninja dude. Losing too. As she debated whether to intervene or not, another twinge of her senses got her attention.
Hmm? A book? Booorrrriiinnnng… Okay, okay! She got it! No need to yell, luck senses. She’d take the stupid book. Grumbling to herself but more intrigued than she’d ever admit, Jinx snuck into the battle and stole the Book of Discord right out from under everyone’s noses.
She wanted to stay and watch the rest of the fight but something was telling her to get out of dodge as quickly as she could. Plus, this book reeked of magic and the Teen Titans had a mage of their own. Jinx wasn’t confident that she could ‘conveniently’ avoid detection for much longer. At least she got one interesting thing out of all of this.
Leaving the museum and the heroes behind to continue their losing battle, Jinx casually ‘lucked’ her way into a fancy-ass hotel room. There, she holed up in the room, pulled herself a bubble bath, and cracked open her ‘lucky’ prize.
“Huh. This is Hindi. Very, very old Hindi. Shit, how much old Hindi do I remember? ‘Book of Discord/Dissonance/Disharmony’? Well, I won’t say no to some new magic…”
Jinx immersed herself in the grimoire, reading and internalizing the ideas and magic within. As she did, SOMETHING began to resonate. Bad luck and disharmony… CHAOS of emotion and probability. Unnoticed by Jinx — by anyone on Earth — that resonance reached farther and farther into the dimensional ether.
The Book of Discord had been intended for a man simply known as Brother Blood. A man of great discord himself. The name ‘Brother Blood’ was passed down. A legacy unto itself. The original founded the Church of Blood, seeking to spread chaos and blood in his wake. The current Brother Blood dutifully continued that legacy.
Brother Blood’s intentions for the Book of Discord would be forever unknown. Lost. But something remained. A connection, waiting to be called upon from a distant dimension. And through a twist of sheer luck, Jinx’s studies of the grimoire triggered a portion of that connection.
A being of pure cosmic power waited on the other end of the connection. A conquerer. A DEMON. For Trigon the Terrible, it was merely one plan of dozens meant to finally expand his infernal influence and empire to Earth. As such, when the resonance called to him from someone other than his mortal servants, he did not panic. He merely altered the plan slightly.
Honestly, the change of plans was a boon. Dealing with mortal pawns was always a hassle. Some of the evil bastards that would willingly serve him even gave him indigestion. Yes, it would be much simpler to seize this new connection and twist it to his needs. Much less immediately effective than the full summoning he’d been expecting though. Hmm… Another alteration was needed, it seemed.
Though Trigon might have been considered a mere overwhelming brute by some, he knew how to do subtlety if he had to. So when Jinx tried her first spell from the grimoire — bad luck calling upon emotion, discord, and CHAOS —, Trigon leeched off the process. The barest sliver of a sliver of his soul piggybacked off the spell, gaining access to the material world and Earth beyond.
The portion of Trigon that made it through was practically nothing. Not enough for an Avatar. Not enough to truly affect the world around him. But even the tiniest of footholds was enough for Lord Trigon. And besides, he knew just how to expand the purchase he had over the material world.
Jinx was abandoned without even realizing that she’d been used. Left to her ‘lucky’ prize and the new magic within. She giggled giddily as she got the spells down, imagining the fun she could have playing with those hero boys’ emotions.
And the sliver of Trigon — the beginning of an apocalypse — quietly sought out his daughter to twist her to his benefit. Their connection would soon prove very useful. Especially since this new development intertwined perfectly with another of his plans.
There were only a few days until Raven’s 18th birthday. Trigon was going to see if he couldn’t soften his daughter up before the events of that day went into motion. Yes, nothing could go wrong with two of his plans combined. It was perfect! After all, Trigon was nothing if not an optimist in the most twisted sense of the word…
Comments
Alexander Brown
OOH OOH OOH!!! If you have Sean take on Trigon could you have him transform into his Sinner form? I wanna know what he looked like when he lived with Charlie and a Sinner vs Demon fight would be epic
Cory Chen
Ah yes Trigon the optimist. His official title thank you. All this evil demon stuff is soooo over blown. What'd a few reality's anyway. We're better off without them:)
