I am the Batman...

Limbs crumpling violently in response to the blow. Fingers twitching before falling limp against the hard ground. The pain was distant, nothing more than a dull ache, the person on the floor blissfully unaware of its echoes.

The scene reset itself. Once. Twice. Three times.

The same stupid mistakes. The same crushing blow. The same pathetic, twitching fingers.

Each time it played, the rolling visuals stole a part of his resolve. It became harder to breathe. Harder to watch. Harder to think. Harder to resist the invisible hand that pulled him back each time, the hand that bade him bear witness to it all, over, and over again.

It was sloppy. Careless. The work of an adrenaline junkie convinced he had something to prove.

What exactly that thing was, Beast Boy wasn’t sure. He doubted it was worth the cost of getting his ass handed to him a million times over.

Or the cost of the voice that cut through the room like sharpened steel.

When it first rang out, the person on the ground seemed to stir slightly, confusion swirling with pain. It was the face of someone trying to remember—trying to pin down a ghost beyond the bubble of fading consciousness.

The voice wasn’t a battle cry. It was anger. It was sadness, fear, and desperation.

It was much more achingly human than a memory had any right to be.

A terrible ringing filled his ears, the piercing white silence tunneling deep into his mind. In an instant, the scene began to waver and shift in a watery haze.

When he finally resurfaced, he knew something was wrong.

It was his voice. His words ringing out. His desperate plea, rising and falling on deaf ears.

For who or what, he didn’t know.

A different figure occupied the space on the ground, fingers twitching with that last spark of life.

He raged against the forces holding him hostage, but it wasn’t enough to move forward, to move toward the figure on the floor. And it certainly wasn’t enough to stay afloat as he was slowly pulled under again, back into the suffocating darkness.

***

Beast Boy shot upward, his breath ragged and hollow as he swallowed a hasty gulp of air. A wave of pain pulsed through his chest, the ripples kick-starting a never-ending coughing fit.

“Whoa, easy, man—" One strong hand clapped him on the back, while another steadied him at the shoulder. “Deep breaths.”

He tried and failed to follow the order, each sharp intake matched by an equally abrasive exhale.

“Here.” A glass materialized before him, dwarfed by the sturdy robotic fingers wrapped around it.

He took the offering without thinking, forcing himself to down the syrupy liquid. A horrible bitterness clung to his taste buds as it trickled down his throat. He blinked hard, blinded by a ray of sunlight that ricocheted off the glass. It was another moment before the rest of the world materialized around him, all blinking machinery and sterile chrome fixtures.

Among them, a familiar face finally came into view.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I think I have a pretty good idea,” Cyborg said, taking the glass from his hand and setting it on a nearby table. A bright light sparked to life at the tip of his friend’s index finger, dancing back and forth across his face. It took every ounce of Beast Boy’s remaining willpower to keep from pushing it away.

“Look straight for a sec. And try to keep your eyes open.”

Another order he could barely follow, his eyes tearing up in seconds.

The light disappeared.

“Any idea where you are right now?”

He gave the room another cursory glance. It was small and sparsely furnished, save for the bed he found himself lying in and the equipment on the other side of it. From the far wall, another pesky ray of early morning sunlight broke through the curtains of the floor to ceiling windows.

A sinking realization washed over him. He’d been here before—more times than he cared to admit, really. With a deflated groan, he wilted into the starchy pillows and matching white bedsheets, the material sticky with his own sweat.

Cyborg let out a low laugh, maneuvering toward a tall steel cabinet on the other side of the bed. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Another stray beam of light glinted off of the door as he pulled it open and grabbed a few items off the shelf inside. “Which means you already know what I’m gonna ask you next.”

Visions of electric shadows rolled through his head, the echo of a voice both familiar and strange playing on an unending loop.

“I…crashed into a wall…” The words were hoarse, his throat scratchy.

There was a slight pause in Cyborg’s movements. “And?”

“And…” Suddenly everything was spinning again, like the world had been turned on its head. “And…I think I’m gonna puke.”

Without missing a beat, Cyborg produced a small metal bucket and shoved it into his hands. “Not on my equipment you’re not.”

The cool exterior sent a wave of relief through his palms as he gripped the sides like a lifeline. Head hung low, he caught a glimpse of his distorted reflection in the bottom, strange and unsightly. It was only then that he noticed the bandages, wrapped like maypole ribbons up his length of his chest and around his shoulder. Only then that he saw the wires streaming from the remaining patches of his exposed skin. Without thinking, he reached up to give one an experimental tug—and felt a thread of resistance seize in the crook of his elbow.

He froze, another wave of nausea roiling inside him. One that had nothing to do with the aftereffects running headfirst into a concrete wall.

“Dehydration and electrolyte imbalance are common after an electrical injury,” Cyborg explained, following Beast Boy’s gaze toward the IV line protruding from his arm. He’d donned a fresh pair of gloves, two tube-like vials in one hand, and a small cotton pad that reeked of alcohol in the other. “You can keep the bucket, but I’m gonna need you to hold out your arm and make a fist.”

Acid bubbled in the back of Beast Boy’s throat. He made the grave mistake of glancing once more at the vials clenched in his friend’s hand—conveniently constructed with built in syringes and screw top lids. He closed his eyes, turned his head, and managed to form a weak fist with his free hand, nails digging into his palms. The alcohol wipe chilled his skin, pressure coiling around his upper arm in a tight circle before the stick found its mark.

One of the monitors behind him started beeping. Louder. Faster. Impossible to ignore.

Through it all, Cyborg remained mercifully silent.

“And…done.”

Beast Boy hazarded a glance at his arm. A small patch of gauze covered the site, held in place by a strip of white bandage. His gaze traveled upward, back to his chest, back to the IV, back across the wires and the flashing screens…

“I’m gonna run an electrolyte panel first, then check for a few different biomarkers in your blood,” Cyborg continued, pulling off the gloves and tossing them in the trash. “Looks like you’ve got a mild concussion, but the blood work’ll pull out any indicators of more serious trauma.”

Beast Boy bit his lip. “So…?”

Cyborg shrugged. “So, assuming everything else checks out, you should be good to go in a couple of days.”

The words hit him like a smack to the face. “A couple of days?”

His friend met his gaze, mouth drawn in a hard line. “A couple of days is good, man. Most people would be out a lot longer. Hell, most people wouldn’t have survived an ass-whooping like that.”

Beast Boy’s attention slowly fell back to his arm. Another wave of nausea flooded through him, tearing through his throat and down into his stomach. He gripped the rim of the bucket tighter.

“Look. I’m not gonna pretend I’m an expert on the human body. And I’m definitely not gonna pretend I’m an expert on you,” Cyborg said, making a sweeping gesture over the bed. “You bounce back fast—I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. You gotta quit acting like it.”

The steady sounds of the machinery filled the silence that followed, a dull heartbeat in a strange, sterile body.

Cyborg inhaled and exhaled another long-drawn breath. “You know Robin’s gonna wanna talk to you.”

A slight hiccup on the monitor, just barely out of line. “Yeah. I know.”

“…I can try and buy you some time if you want, but—“

“No.” Beast Boy’s voice cracked on the single syllable. “No. I mean…that’s…fine. I can talk to him. Now. Whenever. It doesn’t matter.”

Off to the side, he caught a glimpse of Cyborg’s face as a ripple of doubt colored his features.

“You sure?”

He nodded, and the whole world tilted on its axis around him.

Cyborg clasped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “I’ll be back later to check on you. Get you moved back to your own room.”

Beast Boy fought hard to flash him a toothless smile. He barely caught the one thrown his way in return.

A few footsteps. A woosh from the door, opening and closing. And suddenly he was alone again, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

He knew how this next part was going to go. He envisioned Robin before him, arms crossed over his chest, chin tipped back as he stared down his target through a hooded, unblinking gaze. Every movement intentional and rehearsed—a sheath of practicality concealing the disappointment underneath.

Forget the mess that had landed him in this bed. The real beating had hardly begun.

Seconds, minutes, hours later…

The door hissed, and he found himself staring at the needle in his arm, the discomfort of the sight a strangely welcome distraction from the silhouette that wandered in. His skin prickled, fingertips numb. Without turning his head, he risked a glance at the doorway.

Robin emerged, features cool and stoic, as he made his way to the edge of the bed.

But there was someone behind him. Someone who kept a steady distance, dark and stiff as a statue’s shadow.

Electricity crackled in space between the two of them, the invisible aftermath of an exchange Beast Boy would never be privy to.

“Cyborg said you were up,” Robin offered, his tone calm despite the storm silently brewing behind him. “How are you feeling?”

Beast Boy shrugged. It hurt more than it should have. “Fine, I guess. I’m not dead, anyway.”

Robin nodded—not in response to Beast Boy’s answer, but in the direction of his shadowy companion.

Raven didn’t look at either of them as she stepped into the light, stopping a few inches short of the bed. Instead, she wordlessly extended her hands, palms hovering just an inch above the wires and patches. A familiar tingling sensation started under his skin, the ghostly touch raking its way across the entirety of his chest, his neck, his shoulders and arms.

Beast Boy found himself holding his breath. Somewhere deep within him, a knot began to unravel—tiny fingers separating strands with expert precision. The ache in his chest started to fade, falling off somewhere between the multiplying fragments. The feeling, strange and indescribable as it was, only became more so the second it disappeared, ripped away without remorse or consideration for the fraying threads. In an instant, the pain returned, heightened in magnification for each second it had been kept at bay.

Robin raised an eyebrow, his eyes following Raven as she took a step backward.

She blinked once. Shrugged. Crossed her arms over her chest, bored, disinterested.

Robin gave her one last look, eyes flashing.

A slow, deliberate shake of the head.

“Thanks, Raven. You can go.”

No more than a shadow, she quietly turned and left, the door shutting firmly behind her.

A beat of silence passed before Beast Boy dared open his mouth—not that he had time to speak before Robin leapt in with the answer to his unspoken question.

“Not everything shows up on a machine. We don’t want to overlook anything.”

Another marked silence passed between them. A formality that did little to ease the blow that followed.

“What happened,” Robin said, his words even, but clipped. Not a question but a demand.

Beast Boy slumped against the pillows, unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe we can just skip to the part where you tell me you’re disappointed in me.”

Robin released a sigh but didn’t budge. Didn’t so much as blink. “Is it true that Raven told you to stay behind?”

It was an open challenge. One Beast Boy knew better than to accept. And yet…

“What difference does it make? You know she never listens to anything I say. I don’t see why I should have to take orders from her.”

Robin stood in silence. A silence that made it difficult to keep the words from tumbling out.

“Yeah, I took a hit or two—but it was fine,” Beast Boy continued. “I was fine. And there was no way any of us could’ve known what we were up against. I couldn’t just let them go it alone. When I caught up they were obviously outnumbered, and—“

Robin held up a hand. “You’re right.”

The words sent his mind to a screeching halt. “…What?”

“…You’re…right,” Robin repeated with a sigh. “None of you knew what to expect. The threat was greater than we anticipated.” He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, mouth forming a hard line. “Which is why I explicitly told Raven to hold position until I got there.”

Beast Boy frowned. “But what about—“

“I couldn’t reach Star. I barely got a hold of Raven before they went off the grid.” Robin paused, brow furrowed as he considered his next words carefully. “I don’t know what it is, but lately she’s had a tendency to treat orders as…suggestions.”

Beast Boy thought back to the distance she’d kept. The way she’d barely looked at him. No—at either of them.

“Raven made a bad call,” Robin continued. “But that’s unrelated to the decision you made to follow them. Pushing yourself like that was reckless. Especially if she told you to hang back.”

“But you just said—“

Robin cut him off with a look. “I know what I said. It was wrong of her to push forward like that against orders—but she was right to call your injury. In the same way that it was irresponsible of you to tail them, even if your reason for doing so was otherwise sound.”

Beast Boy didn’t trust himself to speak. Maybe, in a backhanded sort of way, Robin was giving him more credit than he deserved.

“I want you to go see her again tomorrow. Have her take another look while Cy’s waiting on his tests,” Robin said, turning toward the exit. He covered the distance in a few effortless strides, lingering on the threshold as the door slid open. There was a subtle shift in his expression as he nodded toward the bed. “You’re going to take it easy for the next few days. And that’s an order. Not a suggestion.”

***

Scrapes and bruises left their marks—but those marks were nothing compared to the thoughts that filled the empty spaces in between.

Thoughts that filled Beast Boy’s head, flitting through unbidden and unstoppable, as he watched gray clouds trudge through the ashen sky. They were a heavy weight, pulling him against the rolling slope of dead grass stretched beneath his feet. He closed his fists around clumps of the cool, brittle blades, mindlessly ripping them from the earth. The Tower behind him cast a long, chilling shadow over the patch of hillside he’d claimed for the afternoon, a gust of wind ripping through his hair and nipping at the exposed skin above his neck.

He might be out of commission. But showing up to practice—even if it was from fifty yards awayas a spectating, sleep deprived zombie—was the least he could do. Right?

Right.

A few drills in and several clumps of grass later, he was starting to second guess his decision.

Starfire was the easiest to pick out from a distance, her stark red hair whipping through the air like a living flame. Bright green bolts of barely contained energy tore through the air as she made her way through the training course. No matter the angle, the distance, the size of her target, she found the mark with ease, leaving a trail of scorching bullseyes in her wake.

Behind her, Cyborg came into view as they closed in on another decoy. Working in perfect tandem, the two ran a play like clockwork—deflect, distract, and destroy. He absorbed hit after hit to hold the line. Starfire pinpointed and disabled the enemy’s defenses with sharp, quick shots. They switched places as they pushed forward, and, with the imaginary enemy finally cornered, Cyborg raised an arm and dealt the final blow, the cannon in his arm erupting with an earth-shaking roar.

At the other end of the field, two figures moved with a shadow-like grace, pushing and pulling against each other as though led by an unseen current. Attack. Defend. Divert. Repeat.

Robin’s precision in hand-to-hand combat was rivaled only by his mastery of the weapons at his disposal. Each movement was careful, calculated; synchronized to the beat of a silent drum. He prodded and provoked his target with quick strikes from his staff, maneuvering elegantly around the ring as he evaluated his options between exchanges. When he switched to the offensive, there was no hesitation, each move fueled by an unshakable confidence and steady hand.

Raven met each of his charges with an eerie calm that pervaded her every movement. It was there in the way her lips moved silently, ushering forward unseen forces with just a whisper. In the way she flicked her wrist and twisted her hand to direct the shadows she conjured as an extension of herself. As she played her part in the dance around the ring, it was as though her physical presence was an afterthought, every movement an exercise in restraint rather than a display of power.

A shiver ran down Beast Boy’s spine. He hugged himself tighter, retreating into the embrace of his jacket, and chose to blame it on the bitter autumn breeze.

Below him, the skirmish ended.

Robin stood in the center of the ring, arms crossed over his chest. A few feet away, Raven mirrored his stance. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking the way that the dust refused to settle. While the visual spectacle faded from the arena, another much quieter battle was still being fought.

Beast Boy was too far away to properly eavesdrop. But he gathered plenty from a few key pauses, head tilts, and one particularly accusatory finger thrust in his direction.

It was as good a sign as any for him to take his leave.

So he stood, wiping the dirt from his pants as he found his footing on the steep slope. He decided that he didn’t care what they were talking about. Didn’t care what Raven had been saying when she’d pointed that finger his direction. Like she didn’t think he’d notice—or didn’t care if he did.

The realization manifested as a lump in his throat and a pit in his stomach. For a brief moment, the world shifted one inch to the right, just slightly askew. And as he marched back toward the Tower, home suddenly felt much farther away than a few steps up a hill.

***

An hour later, Beast Boy had started to regret ever stepping foot outside. Nose running and chest aching, his every breath was punctuated with an accompanying sniffle. And as he shuffled down the long, dark hallway before him, even the thick walls of the Tower weren’t enough to beat back the chill that emanated from this corner of the building.

When they’d first moved in, picking their own rooms had been easy. As it turned out, a fifteen-story high rise was an excess of real estate when it came to housing five people. Even when fourteen of those stories were already otherwise occupied by a sprawling array of laboratories, training facilities, armories, and other not-so-obvious superhero home essentials.

But even with their private rooms confined to a single floor, Raven had done her due diligence keeping the rest of them at an arm’s length.

He passed by a number of doors as he walked, rooms all unoccupied, before stopping at the very last one on the left. To his right, a solitary window looked out on the training field below, washed in the glow of the setting sun. Cold air seemed to seep right through the glass, his lungs burning as he took a deep breath—and raised his hand to knock.

The second his knuckles made contact—once, twice, three times—there was an eerie shift in the silence on the other side of the door. That silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity before it was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching the threshold.

When the door slid open, it exhaled a chilling sigh that sent a shiver through his entire body.

“Hey,” he started, his mouth suddenly as dry as sandpaper. “I’m, uh…here for my doctor’s appointment?”

On the other side of the threshold, Raven stared back at him, her face a mask of carefully concocted indifference. He watched as the lines of her brow just barely twitched. In confusion. In annoyance. Subtle, but predictable tells he’d learned to recognize over the years.

“Your…what?”

“My shoulder? Robin wants you to look at it again.”

She cocked an eyebrow, eyes falling to the site of the injury. “Okay.” They rested there for a moment before shooting back up to his in a blink. “Done. Anything else?”

“…Seriously? Can’t you just—“

She cut him off with a frown. “I know that this might be a foreign concept to you, but I’m actually sort of busy right now.”

“Doing what?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure where they’d come from. It wasn’t exactly a question he was dying to know the answer to.

And, judging by the look on Raven’s face, it wasn’t one she was interested in answering.

“Why do you care?”

“I…don’t.”

She huffed a humorless laugh. “Well, glad we got that squared away.”

He shifted his weight where he was standing—the small movement was just enough to send a fiery ache rippling down his shoulder and through his chest. He really hadn’t done himself any favors sitting in the cold, and his body was in no rush to let him forget it. For a moment, his mind wandered back to a small room with blinking monitors and tightly drawn curtains. To the sensation of a hundred invisible fingers under his skin, carefully unraveling the tapestry of pain written in his muscles.

He could just walk away. Tell Robin she was being difficult. But a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered that Robin had very little to do with this conversation.

Raven cleared her throat.

He blinked hard, pulled suddenly from his thoughts.

“So, are you gonna leave or—?”

He let the words hang in the air. Maybe he had his own reasons for showing up at her door. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use Robin’s for a little leverage.

“I dunno.” He shrugged, trying his best to match her indifference. “Is that an order or a suggestion?”

For a single second, Raven’s mask faltered. Her eyes widened just a fraction—a nearly imperceptible beat of surprise she’d let slip—before narrowing into two deadly slits. It was a strangely satisfying reaction, and Beast Boy couldn’t help but feel like he’d just scored a point in some silent game playing out between them.

Unfortunately, his one-zero lead didn’t last long.

“Fine,” Raven countered, a challenge in her voice. She stepped to the side of the door, creating a pathway before him. “Five minutes. I can give you five minutes.”

The small, satisfied smile forming at the corner of his mouth dropped off without a trace as he scanned the cavernous room behind her.

“Is there a problem?” Raven drawled.

He silently pointed to himself and then back to the room, an unspoken question in the gesture.

She simply rolled her eyes and retreated inside. He realized it was the closest thing to a formal invitation he was going to get. Not that he’d expected any invitation at all.

Feeling slightly superstitious, he stuck a hand over the threshold first, half expecting that he’d meet some shadowy resistance—or be greeted by some cosmic horror home defense system. When neither transpired, he took a single step forward, eyes shut against the possible repercussions of entering enemy territory.

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the door closing behind him.

When he opened his eyes, he caught Raven staring at him, arms folded across her chest and an exasperated frown on her face.

“Oh, like it’s really so unbelievable that you’d have some kind of anti-me barrier around this place,” he said, gesturing with his good arm to the doorway.

In reply, a wooden stool skirted across the floor, coming to an abrupt halt in the center of the room.

“Maybe I should install one,” Raven said stiffly. She glanced between him and the stool as she spoke, a cautionary glint in her eyes that was louder than words.

Now sit down, shut up, and don’t touch anything.

Beast Boy knew better than to argue with her on her own turf. So he took a seat, stuck his hands in his pockets, and quietly bit his tongue. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, nose twitching in response to the sharp, smoky aroma that clung to the air.

On the other side of the room, Raven had made her way to one of the tall bookshelves lining the wall. He watched in silence as she ran a finger over the spines of countless tomes tucked in neat, orderly rows. Every so often the volumes were interrupted by some unidentifiable artifact or trinket operating as an improvised bookend; a black orb with a slick pearlescent sheen, a small crystal skull with a notable crack down the center, a jar of cloudy amber liquid that seemed caught in an endless swirl.

Suddenly, she came to a stop. With a flick of her wrist, one of the titles prudently dislodged itself from its snug spot on the shelf and floated into her hand. Just to the right of where she stood, a pair of heavy velvet curtains were drawn tightly across the only window, smothering the orange glow of the setting sun. As the light began to fade, dozens of candles suddenly sparked to life throughout the room, the eerie phenomenon sending a ripple of shadowy silhouettes parading across the walls.

Beast Boy bit his lip in anticipation. “You know, I bet if we all chipped in we could get you a lamp.”

But Raven was already scanning through the pages of the book, either too absorbed by the material or too stubborn to acknowledge him. Through the weak light of the flickering candles, he caught fleeting glimpses of the strange symbols and bizarre diagrams that filled its yellowing pages. Symbols and diagrams that Raven flipped through with a familiar, almost bored impatience. He privately wondered what sort of cryptic, otherworldly language the text was written in—and where the hell Raven had learned to read it.

Suddenly, her scanning halted. She released the book, which remained suspended in the air next to her.

“Turn around.”

He did as she asked, overly aware of every breath he took in the process.

On the opposite side of the room, a four-poster canopy bed sat in the corner, and an ornate silver floor mirror lay propped against the wall. Just under the window, the carpet gave way to a thick slate platform. Several items had been arranged atop it, the surface covered in symbols and letters etched in thick chalk. Next to it, a book the size of suitcase sat open with large tassels holding the reader’s page.

So Raven hadn’t been lying about being busy. But busy doing what exactly…

She moved silently to his side, her hands glowing with an ethereal light as they lingered a few inches above his upper arm.

A twinge of pain suddenly nipped him in the soft spot between his neck and shoulder.

A small, disappointed frown tugged at the corner of her lip.

“What?”

“Take your jacket off.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to look at something.”

“Okay, but why do I always have to—“

“Because every piece of clothing you’re wearing is just another layer I have to work through, and it makes it harder to see what’s going on underneath,” she said impatiently.

He couldn’t help but flash a sardonic smile. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s kind of like, the whole point of wearing clothes.”

She shot him a familiar look. “Jacket. Off.”

He removed the jacket, his exposed skin instantly prickling with goosebumps. A lifeless chill seemed to cling to the air around them as Raven reached out once more, her hands roaming above his shoulder. Without the thick barrier of the jacket between them, the chill of her fingertips threatened to seep through his shirt, his skin, his muscles, and into his very bones until…

He flinched, jolting upright as he stifled a curse. “Dude—“

She pulled back immediately.

“Why are your hands so cold?”

Her expression was stern. “My hands are perfectly room temperature.”

He scoffed, turning to try and get a better look at her over his shoulder. “In what room? A fucking walk-in freezer?”

She gently but firmly pushed his cheek until he was facing forward again, the chill from her fingertips on his bare skin sending a shiver down his spine.

“Stop moving.”

The touch resurfaced again at a point on his neck, then in the crook of his shoulder atop the fabric of his t-shirt. It came to rest there, where a stinging sensation began to manifest, so cold that a combative heat rose up in revolt under his muscles. He closed his eyes, willing himself to silence the inescapable urge to pull away.

Then, just as quickly, the sensation disappeared.

Beast Boy opened his eyes. At some point, Raven had moved in front of him. Her eyes were closed as she inhaled deeply. And when she exhaled—

Ice shot through his veins like an electric shock.

He visibly flinched, eyes shutting as he braced for a second wave. But all that remained were the echoes of the blast, rippling through him. The sharp pain slowly melted into a fuzzy tingling sensation before leaving behind a strangely soothing numbness.

When he opened them again, he found Raven’s gaze had strayed from his shoulder, back to the book still hovering in the air at her side.

“What was that?”

Her eyes continued to scan the pages as she spoke. “I created some temporary energy pathways to redirect the pain from your shoulder to other parts of your body. Which, by the way, heals so stupidly fast that it’s virtually impossible to retroactively repair any part of it with magic.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “But…you just did?”

More pages of the book flew by with a flick from her finger. “I didn’t fix anything. I just gave you something to help with the pain. There are still plenty of tears in the muscle, but most of it’s already turned into scar tissue. Maybe I’d be able to do more if I ripped your shoulder apart and put it back together myself. But I don’t think either of us wants to spend the rest of the night doing that, so…”

“…So, I’m good to go?” Beast Boy said, already rising from his seat.

The whirling pages of the book came to a sudden stop. In the same instant, a cloud of black mist appeared above his shoulders, and he was pushed back into the seat by an invisible hand.

Raven wordlessly pulled away from the book, turning to face him once more. And before he had the chance to react, her frigid touch returned, this time concentrated at the tip of her finger as it trailed down the length of his chest.

A spark rippled through his chest, and he instantly sat up straighter. For a split second, he was free-falling, a faint jolt of electricity surging through him. A single brush of her fingertips, and Raven had taken to charting a path across him like a goddamn map.

When she finally pulled away, the frown on her face had deepened. “Your shoulder isn’t the issue. It’s the second injury.” She pointed to a spot on his chest. “Right here, above your heart. It’s hard to explain, but the energy pathways are…fragmented. Tangled together like some sort of knot.”

“Which means…?”

Her eyes narrowed. “It means that if you ever pull a moronic stunt like that again, you’re not going to walk away from it. And if you somehow miraculously do, I’ll kill you myself before your injuries have a chance to.”

Beast Boy hummed to himself, hands steepled at his mouth. “Can I give some feedback?”

The muscles in her face twitched, pulled taut with barely masked frustration.

“That magic glowy shit you just did was choice. But your bedside manner kinda sucks balls.”

The book suddenly slammed shut, hard enough to make him jump.

“You know I’m still pissed at you, right? I thought I was making it obvious, but maybe I overestimated your ability to pick up on obvious,” she hissed.

He tried his best to ignore the way her gaze cut right through him, shrugging on his jacket, getting to his feet…

“I don’t know why the hell you’re mad at me. It’s not exactly my fault that you got in capital ‘T’ trouble for going against protocol or whatever.”

He knew he should stop talking. Knew he should just drop it, but…

“Actually, when you think about it, I wouldn’t have had a reason to follow you guys at all if you’d just followed orders. So, really, I should be the one pissed off at you. Because that means this,” he gestured to his shoulder, to the space above his heart, “is kinda, technically your fault.”

Stop talking. Stop talking.

“But who am I kidding? It’s not like you’d ever admit that—especially not when I make such a convenient punching bag every time something doesn’t go your way.”

In the blink of an eye, the expression on Raven’s face shifted, frustration giving way to a chilling, expressionless calm. When she spoke next, her voice was detached, her gaze distant. There was a darkness in both that betrayed the carefully concealed emotions roiling just beneath the surface.

“That’s six minutes.”

Behind him, the door slid open; a soft hiss that cut through the air like a freshly sharpened blade.

A deadly silence filled the air.

Stifling.

Suffocating.

With his hands pressed up against the cool glass, a smile crept onto his face. The weather was perfect. 

A sigh punctuated the silence a few feet behind him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Scheming,” he replied. 

He pushed off the glass, his breath leaving a perfect misty ring on the floor to ceiling pane as he turned just in time to catch the eye roll of the century.

Tucked away in the corner of the sprawling sectional, Raven sat bundled in a thick wool blanket, a large black book perched at the end of her hand like an enormous bird. 

“This better not have something to do with that stupid prank you were talking about yesterday,” she said, flipping a page. 

Beast Boy walked over to the coffee table in the center of the room and dropped down on his knees. Yanking open the stubborn lower drawer, he stuck his arm in up to his shoulder. With a little effort, the box he’d hidden carefully in the back wiggled free from its hiding place. 

“It’s not stupid.” He pulled the box into the light, shuffling a few magazines and abandoned dirty dishes around the tabletop to make room for his treasure. “It’s genius.”

In the distance, a crack of thunder sounded as he emptied the contents out before him.

A slingshot. A roll of chicken wire. Some old hot wheels. Two empty milk cartons… 

“Didn’t Robin tell you to throw away that box of junk?”

“It isn’t junk.” He began placing the items here and there across the table. “It’s art.”

Raven lifted her book just high enough to block him from view. “Okay, well can you go make your art somewhere else?”

“Oh, come on, Rae…” Before long Beast Boy had all the bits and bobs arranged like a misshapen puzzle. He reached out to stabilize an empty soda can as it wobbled back and forth. “Don’t you want a behind the scenes peek?”

Raven peered over the pages and admitted one more downcast glance at the table. “How is that homemade mouse trap supposed to be a prank?”

“This isn’t the prank. It’s the model.” Beast Boy grabbed a well-worn Batman figurine and planted it firmly in the leftmost corner of the improvised schematic. “I wanna run the idea by someone while Cy’s busy fixing his car.”

“Why me…” It was half a question, half a declaration of woe.

“Mostly because you’re here. But also because I know you don’t give a shit. Which means I don't have to worry about you ruining the surprise. Side note—" He pulled away from the growing structure to examine it. "Never tell Starfire anything you don’t want screamed out a megaphone.”

Raven rolled her eyes again. But just as she was about to lift her book back, Beast Boy stuck his hand out to stop her.

“You’re gonna wanna see this. Trust me.” He grabbed the Batman figurine that he’d set off to the side. “So, for our purposes, we’re gonna pretend this is Cyborg, and this—“ he said, picking up one of the hot wheels, “represents the garage—“

Raven frowned, eying the figurine. "Did you take that from Robin’s room?"

“That’s…not important.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, you are so dead when he notices it’s missing.” 

“If he notices it’s missing.” 

Beast Boy carefully plucked at the rubber band of the slingshot. “This is what’ll set the whole thing off. Cy's been so busy lately working on his car, he won’t notice his toolbox is in the wrong spot. At least, not at first.” He began moving the adjoining pieces into place. “And when he goes over here to get it, he’ll trip this wire right here, which will make the smoke detector go haywire. And that's when shit really hits the fan."

"For everyone’s sake, I hope you don't mean that literally," Raven said, wrinkling her nose.

Beast Boy flashed her a devious smile. “We’re getting there.”

The demonstration took at least two minutes from start to finish. By the end of it every one of the carefully placed props had found its way to the floor—or halfway across the room.

“And then—at the very end—he’ll trip this switch here, opening the window over here, and then the force from the wagon releasing over here will send him sliding out into the mud, rolling down the hill and into this huge puddle right…here.” Beast Boy gestured emphatically to the poor figurine, now drowning in a ball of brown twine conveniently marked with a bright red ‘X’ fridge magnet. "This spot always turns into a lake after it rains. A super gross, slimy, stinky lake of prank legend that’ll have him scrubbing his circuits for the next week.”

Raven stared at the remains of the exhibit before her. Her eyes had followed every one of his movements in complete silence, but, as always, her expression was unreadable. 

“So? Pretty impressive, huh?” Beast Boy said, wincing at the audible exasperation in his voice. 

Raven raised her book, allowing one last glance from beneath lowered lids before retreating behind its pages. 

“Yeah. You’re a genius.”

“Oh, come on.” Beast Boy frowned, gesturing back to the miniature metropolis. “That took me like...a month to come up with!”

“Kinda makes you wonder what else you could’ve been doing, doesn’t it?”

“Says the guy who does nothing but read all day.” As Beast Boy spoke, he began to pick up the pieces strewn across the room. Here and there, a few items became shrouded in purple mist and danced their way into the box, moved by an invisible hand.

“I’m just saying,” Raven shrugged. “You could probably just…I don’t know…” She waved her hand in the air. “Dump out his protein shakes and refill them with soymilk or whatever. You’ll get the same reaction.”

Beast Boy came to a halt. “Dude—that’s barely even a prank.” He couldn’t help but shake his head. “No respect for the craft at all.”

Raven turned another page. "Well maybe if you weren’t so busy putting all of your time and energy into coming up with elaborate, childish pranks, you’d be able to do something actually useful every once in a while.”

“Like…?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Like doing the dishes or taking out the trash—or learning how to carry your weight in a fight.”

Beast Boy pushed the box of collected goods back into its secret hiding place. “Just because you can’t appreciate art doesn’t mean it’s useless.” With a shove, the drawer clicked shut. “And I do too carry my weight." 

“Debatable,” Raven shrugged.

“Oh yeah?” He forced a fierce smile, the bigger the better. “Then carry this!”

With a running start off the cushions, he jumped from the back of the couch into the air, morphing mid-flip. When he landed, the ground trembled and the ceiling lights swung back and forth violently. Beast Boy shook his head, flapping his huge green ears as he reared back and proudly lifted his elephant’s trunk to let out a loud trumpet.

Raven glanced over her shoulder at him, clearly unimpressed. She turned back to her book, lifting a hand in the air as she did so. 

Suddenly Beast Boy found himself surrounded in that same purple shadow, his feet slowly lifting off the ground. Raven lifted her hand higher and higher until, when he was barely a foot from the ceiling, the shadow disappeared in a flash—and he felt himself hurtling downward. With one last elephantine screech he quickly shifted again, plopping onto the ground atop four nimble tabby cat paws.

Without skipping a beat, he crouched and leapt onto the back of the couch, tumbling face first over the cushions before transforming back right next to her. 

“You are such an asshole. You know that, right?”

Raven was still looking down at her book, but Beast Boy could see the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Playing on Raven’s terms, it was as good as a full-blown chortle, which was…something at least.

He watched in silence as the extra dishes and debris scattered across the floor from his leap levitated their way back onto the coffee table. A silence that was only broken by the grumbling of his own stomach—louder than any animal he’d ever been. 

“Man, I’m starving,” he said, springing to his feet once more. It was a quick walk over to the kitchen pantry, where they took pains to always maintain a healthy stash of junk food, much to Robin’s disapproval.

“Do you want anything, asshole?” Beast Boy called over his shoulder, meandering to the fridge after grabbing a bag of chips. 

“I’m fine.”

In Raven’s secret, minimalist language, fine could mean nearly anything. He turned back and caught her eye, striking up a silent conversation of his own. 

So…ginger ale?

Ginger ale.

“Watch out,” he said, chucking the last can in her direction. Raven caught it and cracked it open in the air, all without even lifting a finger.

Beast Boy grabbed a root beer for himself and swung over the back of the couch again, reclaiming his seat.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

He nodded to the can of soda floating next to her. “Keep it from exploding after it goes flying like that.”

“You don’t know the trick?”

“What trick?”

Raven held out her hand expectantly. He handed her his own soda without a second thought.

“Tap the sides before you open it,” she said, demonstrating the motion. “It sends the bubbles to the top, so it doesn’t burst.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

She shrugged, handing the drink back to him. “I don’t even remember.”

Beast Boy gripped the can, letting the cool condensation tickle his skin. 

His eyes drifted to the TV screen, images flashing by in quick succession above them. The volume was turned down so low it was impossible to catch what anyone was saying. Subtitles ran along the bottom of the screen trying desperately to catch up with the motor mouthed host. Video footage from a shaky night vision camera cut quickly to a low budget murder re-enactment with copious amounts of fake blood. 

“So…what’re you watching?" he asked, holding out the bag of chips. Raven grabbed a handful as a doll with bloodshot eyes and cracking porcelain skin popped up in the corner of the screen.

“Some ghost hunting show. I don’t remember which one.“

Beast Boy flicked the side of his root beer can a few times for good measure before cracking it open. “I don’t know how you can watch this stuff. It’s so obviously fake.” He paused. “I mean…it is fake…right?”  

Raven let loose another hollow laugh. “If opening a portal to hell was just a matter of lighting a few candles and spewing some bullshit in Latin, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” 

Beast Boy ignored the shiver that snaked down his spine at the sheer nonchalance of the statement. “Then why do you watch this garbage?”

“I dunno. Why do you watch American Ninja Warrior? Or reruns of that dumb magic show you guys like. The carbonara effect.”

“The Carbonaro Effect?”

“Here—“ 

Raven fished out the remote from somewhere within the folds of the blanket. 

"Houses or food?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Uh...houses?"

Within a few clicks, the image on the screen changed drastically, cutting to a montage of brick townhomes. In between shots, a couple pretended to sip margaritas while they discussed the pros and cons of each equally boring option.

“Hello, friends! I heard a loud crashing noise and came to see if everyone is—Oooo!” A familiar flighty voice echoed from down the hallway and filled the room. Starfire squealed, suddenly behind them. “Are we watching the hunters of houses?” Without waiting for an answer, she quickly rounded the corner and assumed her post on Raven’s opposite side. “I believe I have already viewed this particular episode, but it is enjoyable nonetheless. Oh, I do so love attempting to guess which home they will choose!”

“Didn’t you just say you’ve already seen this one?” Beast Boy said, forfeiting the bag of chips to Starfire, who reached for them eagerly. 

“Yes, but I do not remember which one they selected,” she said with a smile. “I do hope it is the first one—the one with the intricate crowns of molding. I understand that things like this are said to give a home character?”

“Crown molding isn’t character,” Raven said, closing her book with finality. “Character is when the realtor lets slip that the former owner was a serial killer, and if you squint you can still see blood stains on the floorboards.”

Starfire’s brow furrowed. “Are these stains of which you speak atop the original hardwood flooring?”

“Of course.”

“Hmmm,” Starfire hummed to herself, pursing her lips. “You make a compelling argument, Raven. But I must still vote in favor of the molded home in this scenario. Your serial killer house does not come with access to a pool of communal swimming nor does it include a court for ‘pickling balls’, which is something the hunters appear to require.”

Beast Boy shook his head. “Character and pools aren’t gonna be what wins them over. They need to go for the one in the suburbs,” he said, gesturing to the screen. “It doesn’t have the amenities, but amenities just mean higher HOA fees.” He began counting off the assets on his fingers. “It’s the best bang for their buck and the most realistic. Close to downtown without being in it. Move-in ready with an updated kitchen. They also said they’re planning to have kids, and if they end up staying in the place long term, it’s in the best school district out of the three.”

A beat of silence passed before Beast Boy realized both of his friends were staring.

“What?”

“I never realized you possessed such a keen eye for home appraisal, Beast Boy!” Starfire said excitedly. 

“And I never realized you possessed critical thinking skills,” Raven said. “Too bad you only use them to analyze housing shows and build Rube Goldberg machines.”

Beast Boy responded with one carefully raised middle finger.

Starfire only giggled. “Well, I hope that no matter which residence they select, they will live a joyful and prosperous life together!” As she spoke, she clasped her hands over her chest, looking off somewhere far away.

“Please. Did you see the way the husband kept looking at the realtor?” Raven said flatly. “I give it six months.”

Before the final reveal, the TV cut to commercial, first with an ad for shampoo, quickly followed by a cinematic advertisement for a European river cruise.

“Hmm..." Starfire hummed. "I forgot why it was that I originally came down here." She tapped her finger at the corner of her mouth. “Oh! The big thud! No one is hurt then?"

“Only if you count hurt pride,” Raven said, a subtle smirk on her lips.

Beast Boy sank back into the cushions, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re hilarious.” 

On screen, the commercials had switched over to local ads—one for a roofing company and the next for—

Beast Boy immediately perked up as a chorus of joyful screams fought its way through the speakers, accompanied by footage of a towering Ferris wheel and streets crammed with food carts and carnival games.

“Dude, I totally forgot! The state fair opens next week!" 

“State fair?” Starfire questioned. “As in…a state of the just and right?”

“No, no, no. Like…the fair. You know...” Beast Boy waved his hands as if painting an imaginary picture. “Sketchy rides, rigged games, and anything and everything you can think of deep fried.”

Starfire’s eyes glittered with what could only be described as terrified fascination. "How do you fry something…deep?" 

Raven shot him a skeptical glance. “Is that really your sales pitch?”

Beast Boy ignored her, continuing to talk to the one captive member of his audience. “They also have performances, auctions, and a whole warehouse full of stupid huge vegetables. Not to mention the adorable farm animals.”

“Farm animals?!” Starfire’s eyes lit up with an unprecedented intensity. “Will there be...goats?”

“Uh...probably? Definitely?” 

“Excellent!” Starfire beamed. “Oh, how I long to see the small sideways-eyed sheep!” 

“If you really wanna see a goat that bad, there’s an easier way,” Raven said with a nod in Beast Boy’s direction. 

“Oh, but Raven, it would be much more exciting to see multiple goats of many shapes and sizes simultaneously! Do you not agree?”

“She has a point,” Beast Boy said.

Raven grabbed the remote and flicked the TV off suddenly, making a point to return to her book. “We have more important things to do than go to the fair.”

“Like what?” Beast Boy challenged. 

“Like finding a new set of wheels.” 

Suddenly, Cyborg appeared in the doorway, his head inches from brushing against the top of the door frame. Covered from head to toe in grease, he held a towel in one hand and a large cube shaped object in the other. The cube radiated an ominous blue light that seemed to sputter and spurt more frequently with each passing second. 

“I swear to God,” Cyborg said, dropping the cube on the counter. “If I have to buy one more battery…”

“What is wrong with this one?” Starfire turned to ask, eyes trained quizzically on the cube. 

“It short circuited my entire dash! I’m gonna have to reprogram the whole damn thing from scratch.” He stormed into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge. “It’ll take me at least two weeks to replace all the fried parts. And that’s if I don’t have to get something shipped from overseas.” As he spoke, Cyborg pulled out a few sandwich essentials—turkey, provolone, lettuce, and tomato. He quickly grabbed some bread and mustard, generously coating the former with the latter. “Which means we’re gonna be out of a ride for a while. At least in terms of low-profile transportation. Because I don’t think we can count Robin’s bike in the mix.”

“That is quite alright, Cyborg,” Starfire said, a little too enthusiastically. “I have always longed for an excuse to make use of the public transportation system.”

“Starfire. You can fly.”

“Yes! But the complicated schedules, inefficient routes, and general unreliability of the vehicles is so wonderfully charming. I would very much like to experience it with my first hand,” she beamed.

Cyborg blinked slowly as if trying to banish the thought completely before turning back to the fridge. “Aw man, are we all out of ginger ale?”

“Sorry,” Raven said, and it actually sounded like she meant it.

“We’re also out of pickles...sriracha...” Cyborg grabbed a bottle in the door and gave it a shake. “And my limited-edition pumpkin spice creamer?”

Starfire ducked sheepishly behind a pillow. “My deepest apologies, friend. You know how I have a weakness for both the pumpkins and the spices.”

“This is chaos,” Cyborg cried, closing the fridge door in defeat. “What are we? Animals?”

A smile started to creep across Beat Boy’s face when suddenly Cyborg met his gaze, raising an accusatory finger at him. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Relax, dude. We can go shopping after the rain stops.”

“And how do you suppose we get there?” Cyborg asked. “Drive? Fly? How are we gonna carry all the groceries back?”

“Maybe someone will offer his services as a pack mule,” Raven said with a sardonic smile.

Before Beast Boy could muster up a retort, a third and final pair of footsteps sounded from the hallway.

“Oh, good, everyone’s already here.” Robin said, pausing on the threshold. In his right hand, he was holding a large, rolled-up sheet of paper.

“Uh...yeah man, we live here,” Beast Boy said with a breathless laugh.

Robin continued to stare at the group in silence before letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Really guys? Nobody remembered?”

The silence was deafening.

Robin ran a hand through his perfectly disheveled hair. “We’re supposed to be having a team meeting right now.”

“Hey, I remembered,” Cyborg threw out defensively before taking a bite of the sandwich he’d thrown together.

“Only because I ran into you five minutes ago, and you asked me why I looked like I had somewhere to be,” Robin replied, making his way over to the couch. He turned his attention to his three remaining teammates. “Look. I know these things might seem like overkill, but they’re important.”

“What? Did Beast Boy break the washing machine again?” Raven asked, unprompted.

Before Beast Boy could open his mouth, Robin’s hand flew up, silencing them both.

“Nothing’s broken. Unfortunately, this time we have something to discuss that’s a bit more serious than blaming each other for slacking on chores.” As he spoke, he pulled the paper out from under his arm and cleared a space for it on the coffee table, carefully scooting the leftover drinks and snacks aside.

Beast Boy peered at the map, the image upside down from where he was seated on the couch. Even topsy-turvy, it quickly became clear they were looking at an incredibly detailed map of Jump City. Multiple lines had been drawn across the surface, connecting a series of marked points to each other like a strange constellation. In the margins, a tight, quick hand had transcribed a series of enigmatic notes.

On the lower half of the map, there were two points in particular—and one dark line connecting them—that had been circled several times over. 

“The tech we have at our disposal is pretty damn good when it comes to recording battle metrics,” Robin started, shifting some of the discarded plates to keep the map in place. “With it we can operate seamlessly when we’re apart, we can generate customized training routines based on our strengths and weaknesses, and, sometimes, we can even predict when and where an enemy might strike next.” He paused. “But there are some things a computer can’t tell you. No offense, Cy,” he said, with a small smile. 

“None taken,” Cyborg said, giving him one in return. 

“I like to keep hard copies of certain reports,” Robin continued. “Sometimes pen and paper makes it easier to see connections the computer doesn’t catch.” 

As he spoke, he pointed to one of the prominently marked locations at the bottom of the map. “About three weeks ago we responded to an attack at a small pharmaceutical R&D lab on the Lower West Side. At the time, we had no idea who the attackers were or what exactly they wanted.”

“I remember that fight,” Cyborg said with a frown, joining them around the table. “Something started interfering with my scanners the second we got there—it was impossible to get a read on those guys.”

Beast Boy remembered the fight too. Masked figures all in black, moving in ways that didn’t make sense. The memory alone made his skin prickle. Something about the encounter had felt…off. Though he couldn’t have put his finger on why.

“After we chased them out, I touched base with some of the employees,” Cyborg continued. “No one was hurt, but those idiots ruined hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of lab equipment in the chaos.”

Robin’s own frown deepened as his eyes glazed over the map. “Not just ruined. Turns out, they didn’t leave empty handed.” He slid another sheet of paper out from underneath the map. It appeared to be a schematic for some sort of lab equipment. 

“At first I thought they must have been after information,” Robin continued. “So, I did a little more research into the company that owns the lab. They operate a small consortium of facilities that specialize in running bioanalytical tests for topical and transdermal drugs. Apparently, it’s not uncommon for larger pharmaceutical companies to outsource the bulk of their R&D to independent labs like this one.”

“Is there something particularly exciting about the drugs they were testing?” Raven asked. 

Robin shook his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a pretty cut and dry operation. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of labs just like this one across the country. When I spoke with the lead research coordinator, she wasn’t worried about any kind of data breach. She was mostly concerned about the damaged equipment—and about one instrument that disappeared altogether.”

Cyborg stared down at the schematic, his eyes going wide. “They stole a mass spec?”

Starfire’s face twisted in confusion. “How can a speck, which is small, also be massive?”

“Spectrometer,” Robin corrected. “A mass spectrometer is a relatively commonplace instrument in drug testing and toxicology labs,” he supplied, addressing the rest of the group. “But it can also be one of the most expensive—especially if it’s combined with a liquid chromatography system, like this one was.”

“How expensive is expensive?” Beast Boy asked.

“We’re looking at just under half a million dollars.”

Cyborg let out a low whistle.

“There’s gotta be an easier way to make a quick buck,” Beast Boy said. “Whatever happened to robbing a bank? Does no one do that anymore?”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not planning on selling it,” she said plainly. “They’re planning on using it.”

Robin nodded in agreement.

“Still seems like a hassle,” Beast Boy shrugged. “It would’ve been easier to steal the money. Then they could buy whatever they want.”

Cyborg bit his lip. “Even with all the money in the world, it could take months to get a hold of one of these things. You’d need to get a quote from a manufacturer and work out any adjustments that need to be made. Parts probably aren’t sourced from the U.S. either, which would make the turnaround time even longer.”

“So, whoever stole this thing isn’t just an asshole. They’re an impatient asshole,” Raven said. 

“Or,” Starfire interjected, raising a finger pointedly in the air. “Perhaps it is not a matter of impatience. Perhaps it is a matter of necessity.”

“Either they don’t want to wait that long…or they can’t afford to,” Cyborg mused. 

Robin continued to stare at the schematic, his face a mask of pure concentration.

“You know,” Cyborg continued. “I’d be interested to know what exactly this machine was being used for—and if it had any specific modifications made to it.”

“Agreed,” Robin said with a nod.

“Robin, what exactly is the typical function of such a machine?” Starfire asked.

Robin looked to Cyborg. “You probably know better than I do.”

“A mass spec can be used for all sorts of things,” Cyborg said with a shrug. “It’s an analytical tool—you use it to help determine the structure of molecules by measuring their mass-to-charge ratio. Those measurements can help isolate and quantify the building blocks of a larger compound. The lab we were at was probably using it to study drug metabolism rates, but they can also be used to sequence amino acids, screen for certain diseases using metabolic profiling, identify environmental pollutants in the soil and water, or even—“

“Dude. Stop. You’re making my head hurt,” Beast Boy said, rubbing his temples. 

The room was silent for a moment as the information sank in. 

“There’s one more thing,” Robin said. As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular metal object. “One of the researchers found this the morning after the robbery. It doesn’t belong to any of the staff, and the director confirmed that it didn’t fall off any of the instruments.” 

With a gentle toss, Robin flipped the trinket onto the table, where it landed right in the center of the diagram. Beast Boy caught a single flash of gold before Cyborg snatched it, holding it up to the light between two fingers. Even from a distance, he caught the imprint of something stamped on the surface. 

Cyborg zoomed in as far as he could with his one eye, the lens taking a moment to focus on the minuscule etching.

“A-R-S-E…” he read aloud. “I think there used to be more, but that’s all I can make out. Shit’s pretty worn down.” He handed it to Starfire. Raven leaned in to look at it from over her shoulder.

Amid their quiet contemplation, Beast Boy tried and failed to contain a snort of laughter. As one, his friends’ eyes all fell upon him.

“Is something funny?” Robin asked, his tone flat and anything but amused. 

Again, Beast Boy tried and failed to hide the smile wavering at the corners of his mouth. “No. Nothing.”

Robin cocked an eyebrow, his mouth still a hard line. 

“Oh, come on,” Beast Boy said. “A-R-S-E? Like arse? As in ass?”

“We are fighting…ass monsters?” Starfire said, a look of genuine disturbance on her face.

Beast Boy met Cyborg’s gaze at the exclamation, which was enough to crack them both wide open. Cyborg tried—and failed—to hold back a full-blown belly laugh as a tear came to his eye.

Raven, of course, merely rolled her eyes.

Robin, by some insane measure, appeared even less amused. Without a word, he reached into his pocket again, pulling out a second piece of metal and dropping it on the table. It appeared to be some kind of identification tag, though the engraving was just as worn. 

“S-E-N,” Robin read aloud, nodding toward the second piece. “This was a piece of evidence we collected from the aquarium break-in last week.”

Beast Boy looked down at the tag. So that must have been the second dot on the map. It had been a bizarre incident to say the least. By the time they’d arrived at the tourist attraction, the fight had long since ended. According to the employees and the authorities already on the scene, no one had been injured—but the small in-house research wing of the massive building had been utterly destroyed.

“The two pieces are made of the same metal,” Robin continued. “The fonts match up as well.”

“Weird,” Cyborg murmured.

“Weird isn’t the half of it. Despite the fact that a tornado might as well have blown through the place, all the equipment in the aquarium’s lab was accounted for. There were no indications that internal systems had been tampered with either.”

“So, what’s the catch?” Beast Boy asked.

Robin pulled his phone from his pocket before quickly turning it in their direction. “This is the catch.”

A news article spread across the screen, the headline big and bold: “Newly Discovered Species Set to Join Aquarium in January.”

“They stole a fish?” Beast Boy asked.

“Not just any fish,” Robin said with a shake of his head. “An extremely rare species of cuttlefish called a clay fish. The aquarium acquired it less than a month ago—it’s the only known specimen in captivity.”

“A…cuddle fish?” Starfire asked.

“A cuttlefish,” Beast Boy interjected. “They’re like…little squids. They can change colors and stuff kinda like a chameleon.” 

Robin suddenly handed his phone to Beast Boy. He took it without thinking, glancing down at the article still pulled up on the screen. A subtle nod from Robin urged him forward.

"Sepia omneforman,” Beast Boy started, fumbling through the jumble of sounds, “otherwise known as the South-African clay cuttlefish, or simply the clay fish, is one of the rarest species of cuttlefish in the world. First discovered by a group of researchers from Johannesburg, the clay fish shares many qualities with the common cuttlefish, including its use of chromatic camouflage. However, the clay fish also possess what some scientists are optimistically referring to as ‘shapeshifting’ abilities.” 

At this Beast Boy paused—just a beat—before starting the next sentence. 

“In addition to sharing the regenerative abilities of similar cephalopods, the clay fish demonstrates a unique and unprecedented level of control over the formation and function of unique, organic appendages. With its ability to ‘restructure’ its own DNA, some scientists believe the clay fish may hold the secret to perfecting current gene therapy models used for treating genetic disorders, infectious diseases, and even cancer."

Beast Boy lowered the phone, sure that he’d tripped over more than a few words while reading. “That's what everyone's so worked up about? Some fish that can kinda shapeshift?" He tossed the phone back to Robin. "I figured that party trick out ages ago. Too bad they didn’t think to ask me first.”

Robin frowned. “Further down it mentions that they were eventually planning to breed them. So that they’d have some to experiment on.”

Beast Boy felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He just barely caught a glimpse of Raven in his peripheral, drawing a finger across her throat.

“Okay, yeah,” he swallowed hard. “I see your point.”

Starfire hummed quietly to herself. “If these two incidents are indeed related, then we must discover what it is that connects them.”

“I wish I had more answers. But one extremely convenient coincidence isn’t much to go off of,” Robin conceded with a shrug. “All I’m asking is that everyone keep their eyes open. If the two events are related, being even half a step ahead of these guys could make a difference.”

“Don’t worry, Robin.” Beast Boy said, getting to his feet. “I’ve got eyes like a hawk.” He made a motion to clasp Robin’s shoulder—but as soon as his foot hit the ground, a sharp pain shot up from underneath. A pain which sent him stumbling forward to the tune of a neglected toy car whizzing under the couch.

“Beast Boy! Are you alright?” Starfire exclaimed, jumping to her feet. 

Head spinning, he pulled himself up by the edge of the table—where his half empty can of root beer had tipped over and finished itself off thanks to his fall. Beast Boy grit his teeth as he watched the sugary liquid crawl to every corner of the surface—and all over Robin’s map.

Robin just stood there for a moment, surveying the scene. With a sigh, he lifted the sticky brown paper from the table, allowing the excess root beer to trickle off. 

“Well—at least it didn’t get on the carpet?” Beast Boy said with a sheepish grin.

“Good thing that’s not the carpet,” Raven added, shooting a downcast gaze at a spot which was definitely the carpet.

He shot her a pointed glare in return. 

But before she could respond, the entire exchange was cut short by a blaring alarm. 

The noise swept through the room as the television screen flashed from cookie cutter suburban homes to a complex status report overlay. On the right-hand side, a map of the city suddenly blinked into existence highlighting intersecting coordinates. 

“Looks like you might get your bank heist after all, BB,” Cyborg said, opening a panel on his own arm to control the screen. In the bottom left, another window appeared, streaming what seemed to be security footage. Through the haze, several shadowy figures appeared running down a hallway. One stopped for only a second, pointing a gun at the camera, which consequently short circuited and faded to static.

Cyborg swore under his breath. 

Without a word, Robin started running. Starfire followed immediately behind him.

Raven heaved a heavy sigh, throwing her blanket to the side and scooping up her book. “You just had to say something…”

Beast Boy rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, sure. Because—like everything else—this is definitely my fault somehow.”

“You two better stop fighting and get a move on,” Cyborg said as he backed out of the room. “Last one to the garage buys dinner.”

With one last smirk Raven turned to look at him, a gaping void of darkness appearing behind her. 

“Oh, that is so not fair—”

“Better hurry,” she said, “or I might get hungry for something expensive.”

At least, that’s what Beast Boy assumed.

As Raven frequently reminded him, the concept of sustaining an alter ego sort of collapsed in on itself when your skin was green. 

Not that he had anything to hide—or anyone else he wanted to be. 

Not that it would have mattered if he did. 

By the time he made it to his room, the rain had picked up in earnest, pounding a steady staccato beat against the window. With careful precision, he quickly carved a path through the organized chaos of his bedroom floor, dodging piles of discarded clothes, unopened impulse purchases, and half-forgotten hobbies. He knelt near the foot of his bed and began a frantic excavation through the overflowing laundry basket that had taken up permanent residence there. With each wrinkled garment he tossed aside, he became more painfully aware of the precious seconds ticking by. Precious seconds that might not have added up so quickly had he remembered to fold his laundry for once. 

Halfway through the bin, he finally found what he was looking for—slick black athletic joggers and a form fitting long sleeve shirt. With the rain and wind howling outside, they were his best bet to ward off the oncoming autumn chill. After shrugging into the outfit, he pulled on a pair of extra grip running shoes and made for the door. 

There was just one more thing he needed. The pièce de résistance of the outfit, currently draped over the back of his desk chair. He snagged the red and white varsity jacket from its perch and shrugged into the vinyl like a second skin. Raven had once commented that the jacket was, quote, ‘visually abrasive’. Cyborg had told him it ‘made him look like a Christmas tree’. 

Naturally, he wore it every chance he got. 

He’d never admit to calling it a costume, but if he couldn’t have a secret identity, the least he could do was stick to a consistent color scheme.

He swiped his phone off the desk and checked the time, muttering a curse under his breath. It had only been five minutes tops since they’d disbanded in the living room—but five minutes was cutting it dangerously close with Robin keeping score. The guy practically lived in his self-proclaimed uniform. Beast Boy wouldn’t have been the tiniest bit surprised to find that he slept in it too.

After weaving his way through the endless halls, he thundered down the last set of stairs and flew into the garage. By the time he got there, only Robin and Cyborg remained—the former about to hop on his bike, the latter tinkering with his car.

“There you are,” Robin said, just about to pull his helmet over his head.

“Sorry,” Beast Boy panted. “I was just— “

“Don’t apologize.” Robin’s voice was flat, the black sheen of the headpiece obscuring his features. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

He didn’t have the nerve to point out that he was playing at a disadvantage. Raven could teleport anywhere in an instant. Cyborg barely had to change. Robin was, well, Robin. And, on the exceedingly rare occasion that Starfire was ever late or unprepared, their fearless leader barely seemed to notice. Maybe that was just one of the perks of dating him.

“I’ve already sent Star and Raven ahead of us,” Robin said, his voice crackling through the built-in mic. “Go catch up with them. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cyborg rounded the hood of the car, his fingers flying across a touchscreen on his forearm. “I just sent you both their location.”

Robin nodded, revving the engine through thick leather gloves. In an instant, he disappeared into the darkness, his headlights cutting a dull glow through the onslaught of rain.

Beast Boy took off running after him. 

In one quick movement the ground disappeared under his feet, the slick concrete replaced by wild wind streaming through his talons. Heavy pearls of rain slid off his outstretched wings as he propelled himself forward. From high above, he followed the pinprick of light from Robin’s bike until it was inevitably swallowed up by the glowing hum of the city.

But Beast Boy didn’t need a map to find his way. Not with the streets sprawled out beneath him in miniature.

Before long, the curtain of heavy rain parted, giving way to a light drizzle. He turned his attention to the world beneath him where, even through the afternoon gloom, he picked out little snippets of strangers’ lives unfolding below. On one corner, he caught a woman handing out pamphlets from atop an overturned crate. On the other, a daycare was letting out for the day, children running left and right into their parents’ arms. Further up ahead, he caught sight of a tangle of flashing lights—police cars. The bank had to be just around the corner.

Beast Boy plummeted into the maze of high-rises, gliding toward the scene with deadly grace. After a moment, he pulled back, landing atop a patio chair on an adjacent rooftop. A small flock of sparrows scattered beneath him, abandoning the handful of stray crumbs on which they’d been feasting. He quickly shifted back, the scent of coffee and fresh baked bread filling the air. The smell alone was enough to make his stomach rumble. As it turned out, two handfuls of chips and a soda made a pretty lousy excuse for lunch.

He brought the phone to his ear as he surveyed the crime scene below. “I’m here. But it looks like the party’s already over.”

Cyborg’s voice crackled to life on the other end. “Raven and Star just left. They’re cutting west—toward the edge of town.” His voice was momentarily replaced by the sound of frantic typing. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have eyes on them. They’re flying right into a dead zone.”

Beast Boy smiled to himself. “Piece of cake.” 

He slid the phone back into his pocket and leapt off the edge of the rooftop. Wings spread over the sea of blaring lights and wailing sirens below, he cruised past the display under the shadow of a passing storm cloud. A block ahead, he banked a sharp right, diving down a side street and into an alley where he landed effortlessly on all fours. From there, he kept to the shadows as he padded along, working his way back toward the bank. No one would spare a second glance for a mangy stray hound sniffing through the trash for its dinner. 

Nose skirting the asphalt and large, floppy ears dragging along behind it, Beast Boy made his way methodically around the perimeter. The rain admittedly made things more difficult, muddling the warring scents of the city in a foggy haze. But he was confident he’d find the trail eventually—the scent he was searching for was hard to miss. 

After trotting through the shadows for several minutes, he finally caught a whiff of it. The sickly sweet and slightly smoky aroma was faint at first, but it was so distinctly different from the surrounding smells—exhaust fumes, rancid garbage, and now wet dog—that just one sniff was enough to set him into a sneezing fit. The path appeared before him like an invisible line tethered beyond the horizon. He let it tug him forward. 

As he walked, polished skyscrapers gave way to narrow brownstone apartment buildings. The sky opened up above the rooftops, and the hum of daily life crawled back toward the earth. 

He ambled down a side street where the road lines had faded into mere suggestion. Rounding the corner, he skirted the edge of a gas station flanked by cracked sidewalks and pockets of crabgrass. At the edge of the lot, several men leaned against the wall of the attached convenience store, laughing and smoking cigarettes under a twitching neon sign. Streetlights became few and far between. The further he went, the fewer faces he saw—among them he counted a solitary stray cat, its lips pulled back and teeth bared as it let out a spine-tingling hiss from behind a wilted cardboard box. 

Beast Boy knew he was still very much in the city—but there was an emptiness to this part of it. Here, at the fringes of the cosmopolitan tapestry, life was barely clinging on. As if the people and places around him had been deemed a stubborn stain on the fabric of society.

At the end of the street, asphalt shifted to grass. The smells and sounds of the urban sprawl faded into the distance as he plodded onward across the dewy forest floor. The weight in his chest faded with each step—and disappeared completely the moment he spotted flaming red hair and a dark purple cloak between the trees.

“Beast Boy!” Starfire gasped.

In an instant, he was on his own two feet, hands tucked snuggly in the pockets of his jacket. 

“’Sup ladies,” he drawled, closing the distance between them. 

“How were you able to locate us? Our devices fail to broadcast a signal.”

He rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, sore from his hunched over hike through the streets. “Oh, that was easy. Raven stinks.”

Raven glared at him, her eyes two menacing slits under a cloak of shadow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stretched his arms behind his back, his muscles singing. “You always smell like the weird candles they burn that store on Second street. The one with all the mini Buddha statues and Grateful Dead t-shirts.”

Raven frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “It’s called incense. And I’ve never set foot in that stupid store in my life.”

“Well, it reeks,” he said dramatically wrinkling his nose.

Raven gave him a once over. “At least I don’t smell like a soggy doggy daycare.”

Starfire quickly stepped between them. “Robin is not with you?”

Beast Boy shook his head. “I’m guessing he took a pit stop at the bank—that, or he’s stuck in traffic.”

Starfire muttered an incomprehensible string of syllables under her breath. 

Behind them, the last few rays of sunlight fought their way through the clouds. But they were fading fast. Darkness—true nighttime darkness—was fast approaching, despite the early hour. Slowly, the muted orange glow on the horizon was replaced by the subtle green glimmer of his friend’s emerald eyes.

“So…”

“We just lost them,” Raven said flatly. 

Beast Boy looked around the clearing once more, this time stopping to take in all the sights, sounds, and other smells of the sparsely wooded area. The air was crisp and surprisingly clear, the steady hum of crickets and occasional flash of fireflies peppering the more rugged terrain up ahead. But there was something else—something unnatural—whispering underneath the chorus of the setting sun. 

In a flash, he traded two feet for four once more, and a familiar green elephant appeared in the clearing. His teammates’ eyes both widened as the massive creature’s heft sent a tremor through the earth, but they remained silent as he shuffled back and forth across the space. With each step, he felt the whisper grow louder and louder. It was as though a hundred tiny hammers were pounding deep beneath the earth, the vibrations clambering through the soil in search of an escape. 

He shifted back, coming to a halt where he’d started. “I don’t think you guys lost them. Not exactly.”

Starfire’s eyes fell to the ground. “Do you mean to suggest— “

Beast Boy nodded. “I can hear something—or…feel it, I guess. Underground.” He dropped down low, putting an ear against the earth. Just like that, the sound vanished, invisible to his human senses.

Raven let out a long-suffering sigh. “So obviously the solution is to stomp on the ceiling until they let us in.”

Beast Boy elected to ignore her, his ear still pressed against the damp earth. Somewhere far below, the distant thrumming breached the threshold of human hearing. He rolled back onto the balls of his feet. “Whatever’s going on down there, it’s getting louder.”

“They’re probably coming upstairs to see who rang the doorbell.”

Before he could conjure up a retort, Starfire’s voice cut between them.

“Friends—“

Beast Boy turned, following her gaze to where several metal objects had begun to rise out of the ground. 

A second later Raven’s hands flew into the air, a translucent purple dome forming around them.

Lasers struck the barrier from every direction, pounding against it like dizzying metallic rain. Beast Boy watched as the deflected beams razed through boulders and splintered surrounding trees like toothpicks. In less than a minute, their small bubble of safety was completely entrenched in dust and flying debris. Here and there, small fist-sized pockets started to open and close across the perimeter of the shield—just long enough for Starfire to throw several shots of blazing green energy into the darkness. Each time one of the sporadic blasts landed a hit, it was met with a resounding crackle and pop of yellow light.

He glanced over his shoulder at Raven, her expression strained as she poured all of her focus into maintaining the wall around them. Starfire’s eyes were equally alight with raw, unfettered rage, her hands moving in perfect rhythm to the gaps blinking in and out of existence.

It was a flawless execution of skill—of two teammates working in perfect harmony. But perfect harmony had backed them into a corner. And that little corner of safety wouldn’t hold forever. 

Thanks to the rain, the earth was soft and malleable, flying quickly under Beast Boy’s paws as he started to dig. He didn’t need to go far, just under the barrier and out the other side. And the fastidious feet of a field mouse were perfect for the job. To the tune of destruction all around him, he quietly toiled and tunneled away, before silently slipping through. There were unique advantages to being small—especially when staging the element of surprise. And in that moment, Beast Boy decided that there would be nothing more surprising than a Bengal tiger materializing a mile outside city limits.

There was a thrumming in his ears, in his heart, in his head, as he let the thought take over. As he felt his tiny mud-clod nails morph into sharp, vicious claws. As he curled his toes and arched his spine, the massive pads of his feet sinking into the earth. Every muscle in his body, from the tip of his twitching nose to the end of his striped, green tail, rippled with an insatiable, indescribable hunger.

The turrets that had sprung from the ground continued their steady assault on his friends, firing in a persistent, predictable pattern. But something else pulled his attention toward the shadows. 

Eyes gleaming in the weapons’ light, the rest of his senses snapped into place. He crouched low to the ground, his muscles taut and set to spring. His instincts pulled him toward the darkness beyond and what he sensed was lurking there. Watching. Waiting.

Claws digging into the wet earth, the coiled tension in his limbs snapped free as he lunged forward into the void. With a bellowing roar, his razor-sharp teeth sank into a mass of metal, the tips of shredded circuitry singing his fur. His target, now nothing more than a mangled husk of elaborate engineering, collapsed beneath him with a heavy thud. 

Beast Boy blinked, his feline vision sharpening against the planes of light still ricocheting against Raven’s shield. In between the flashes, he studied the contours of the mechanical creature twitching under his paw. A head, torso, arms, and legs all came into focus. The smell of silicone and burning metal filled his nose as he took a lumbering step backward. It was all he could do to dispel the sudden, overwhelming urge to rip the thing to pieces.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the ring of turrets still firing behind him. 

Deadly as they were, the machines themselves had been designed to be discreet—small, delicate, and easily downed by a single swat from a tiger’s paw. 

His ears pricked as the last one went tumbling through the grass, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. In the darkness, the distinct whisper of footsteps fast approaching cut through the haze. The lone assailant from earlier had probably been a scout—with friends now on the way. 

Beast Boy’s tail flicked in anticipation, his eyes cold and unblinking.

The first figure to emerge from the shadows leapt at him with inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a blink. Arms raised high above its head, it gripped one end of a long, metal quarterstaff—the other flickering with a wild electric pop as it came barreling toward his head.

He dodged the attack with less than an inch to spare, quickly twisting his head around in the opposite direction. While the figure regained its footing, he moved in, clamping down on the lower half of the weapon. With one quick motion, he wrenched it from the wielder’s grasp, savoring the way the metal crumpled between his teeth like a cheap plastic toy. 

In the distance, Raven and Starfire had emerged, exercising a full range of attacks against the oncoming onslaught of enemies. There were a dozen of them, at least. Before the severed halves of the staff hit the ground, another one of the mindless drones was upon him.

This opponent opted to go low, swiping another one of the glorified cattle prods at his feet. Beast Boy jumped back, morphing mid-air into the first thing he could think of—a tiny hummingbird fluttering just out of reach. Just as quickly, he dropped back to the earth sporting stripes once more, poised to pounce.

But not fast enough. 

The second the weapon blazed past him, the wielder doubled back, slinging the staff into a deadly uppercut. He scrambled, throwing his weight to the left as blue and white sparks flew off the cold metal end of the pole—and connected with his shoulder in a sizzling smash.

It was impossible to restrain the thundering growl that burst from the back of his throat. His shoulder seized, the trembling jolt snaking its way down his arm, through his neck, and up through the base of his skull. A spiderweb of pain jerked his muscles inward as he reared back, tumbling to the ground. 

He caught himself on human hands, the splintered remains of tree branches digging into his palms. Now would be the time to shift—into something, into anything—but his body rebelled against him, muscles still twitching with electric venom. Underneath it all, he became distantly aware of a raw, burning pain that began to blossom in the crook of his neck, slowly bleeding outward in every direction.

Once more, a shadow fell over him, the contours of the figure illuminated by the crackling light of its staff. 

Beast Boy shut his eyes, prepping to endure another gut-wrenching blow. Instead, a horrible crash flooded his ears, yanking him back into reality. His eyes flew open, only to find that the author of his impending doom had been blown into a pile of misshapen mechanical pieces. 

Suddenly, a hand curled around the collar of his jacket, yanking him backwards. He spun around, expecting to lock eyes with an enemy hungry for some close combat. What he found instead was much, much worse. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Raven hissed, her voice a deadly whisper that just barely cut through the din of destruction. They’d ended up crouched behind a massive fallen oak tree, the battle still raging on the other side. A much smaller force field pulsed around them, pushing them close enough that their shoulders brushed behind the cover of the toppled trunk.

“They had us backed into a corner,” he shot back, wincing from the pain as he turned to chance a look over the barricade. There was an entirely separate fight happening in the sky, where Starfire held a steady line against the enemies from above. “What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and do nothing?”

“I had it under control,” she bit back through gritted teeth.

He turned to meet her head on. The motion was enough to send a fresh wave of pain coursing through his shoulder. “You really wanna do this? Right now?”

“We’re supposed to be working together. That’s the whole point of being on a team.”

“I took out like six guns for you guys!” he said, gesturing to the battlefield with his good arm. “How is that not working together?”

In the next second, Raven whipped around, dropping the shield just long enough to send a discarded tree branch flying faster than a bullet. It skewered an encroaching enemy straight through the chest, flying out the other side. The android’s torso promptly burst into flames as it stumbled forward and fell unceremoniously to its knees. She didn’t miss a beat, turning her searing gaze on him once more. 

“Did you even have a plan?”

“Of course I had a plan—”

“Improvising doesn’t count as a plan,” she bit out, throwing the shield around them again—and not a second too soon.

Before Beast Boy could reply, a deafening metal clank rattled the dome. His attention flew up to where another staff-wielding enemy lumbered above them, winding up for a second swing. He locked eyes with Raven, a silent message in her stare. 

A single second before impact, the shield disappeared. Beast Boy threw himself backward, just out of range of the lethal swipe. The weapon and its wielder came crashing down, propelled by an overestimation of brute force as both crashed into the tree trunk. 

Raven was already up on the other side. With a sharp flick of her wrist, several blades of shadow sliced through the attacker’s metal armor, sending the staff rolling from its twitching hand.

Shoulder still throbbing, Beast Boy pushed himself up from the ground. The chaos had attracted the attention of several other androids, each now charging them with reckless abandon. 

He didn’t give himself room to register the pain as he shifted. He focused instead on the way the breeze began to roll off his slick, bony scales. The way the scent of damp decay filled his nostrils. The way it tasted on his tongue, slumbering behind two long rows of impossibly sharp teeth. Bracing four stubby crocodile feet against the earth, he let the muscles in his long, jagged tail pull the weight of his next attack. A sickening crunch echoed through the air as the blow sent several of the figures skidding across the forest floor.

Riding the momentum of the swing, Beast Boy maneuvered himself in the opposite direction. A second attacker had already appeared behind him, perfectly poised to strike an electrified blow.

Just before the weapon found its mark, an identical staff flew through the air above him with deadly precision. The defending android parried, clashing against the unmanned assault as the weapon spun and slashed under a shroud of shadow—just long enough for Beast Boy to find an opening. It came in the form of an artfully crafted blunder—a strike from the floating weapon that sent the android stumbling backward…right into his gaping reptilian maw. He easily latched onto the foe’s leg, yanking it with a sharp tug that sent wires spitting and sparks flying across the clearing. 

It was a silent waltz through a whirlwind of teeth and shadows. 

Words were redundant, all sound swallowed by the crunch of steel and sizzling circuitry. A nod of the head, a flick of a tail, a hurried glance through widened eyes—an unspoken language wove its way through their movements as they pushed the enemy back. 

When the last one fell, a hollow silence replaced the clanging and clashing, broken only by the whisper of leaves skirting across the expanse of mechanical corpses. 

Beast Boy transformed back, slumping heavily against a nearby tree. Red hot pain coursed through his shoulder, begging for his attention. He focused instead on the jagged bark biting at the nape of his neck, the soft scrapes a welcome distraction from the muscles seizing up an inch below. 

“Beast Boy—” Starfire glided back down to earth a foot from where he’d settled. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” he ground out, hoping she wouldn’t catch the hitch in his breath. “I just…pulled a muscle.” 

Raven appeared on the opposite side, already kneeling next to him. 

“Take off your jacket,” she said flatly.

Before he had time to protest, her hands were raised, palms outstretched over the site of impact. He hesitated but shrugged his arm halfway through the sleeve.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, turning to Starfire. It was all he could do to pull his attention from the strange tingling sensation spreading down his shoulder and up his neck. 

Starfire silently produced a small metal object from her pocket. A strange mixture of relief and distress colored her features. “I removed this from the metal skull of one of our attackers. It bears the same letters as the item Robin presented to us earlier.” 

Suddenly, there was a shift in the sensation radiating through his right side. He glanced over at Raven, whose attention had turned to the ground below him. She removed her hands, taking the sweet tingling numbness with her. In its absence, the once searing pain had now faded to a dull ache. 

“Scoot over,” she said, waving him to the side.

Using his good arm to push himself up, he reluctantly obeyed.

She promptly began brushing aside the soggy leaves gathered at the base of the tree. After a moment, her efforts revealed a dim red light blinking weakly among the roots.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “How did you—?”

“Your ass was blinking,” she answered plainly.

He couldn’t help the small sardonic smile that appeared on his face. “Why were you staring at my ass?”

Starfire let loose a small giggle—and quickly squashed it as Raven shot her an exasperated look.

The look didn’t leave her face as she returned to the light, giving it a hard tap. In response, a small translucent panel popped out of the bark of the tree a few feet above them, a red beam of light rippling over its surface. 

“It…appears to be some manner of identification device,” Starfire observed.

Raven’s gaze turned toward the battlefield behind them. A second later, one of the many dismembered limbs scattered across the ground flew into her open hand. She made quick work of removing the dirty leather glove adorning the end of it, revealing five digits wrapped in silicone skin. With a cold, disinterested efficiency, she held each finger up to the scanner. When she reached the ring finger, the red light leaking from the device changed to a vibrant neon green.

A few feet away, a mechanical hiss slithered through the leaves, punctuated by a loud click—as a well of darkness yawned into existence in the forest floor.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Raven murmured.

Starfire took a step closer to examine the pit. “Perhaps this is the entrance to their lair?” 

Raven chucked the arm into the brush behind her. “I have a hard time believing that someone who gives their robot henchmen fingerprints would overlook such an obvious design flaw in their security system.”

“It is rather convenient,” Starfire hummed. “A circumstance which would usually suggest it is a trap.”

“Or maybe we just got lucky,” Beast Boy interjected, biting back the pain as he pulled himself to his feet. “Only one way to find out.”

Raven locked eyes with him instantly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He exhaled a humorless laugh. “Yeah, right. Like I’m seriously gonna just sit here and do nothing while you guys have all the fun.”

“Whatever’s waiting down there isn’t going to be fun.” 

He made a point to ignore the clear warning in her tone. “If it’s a trap, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“You were just electrocuted.”

“Then you did your magic healing stuff, and now I’m fine. Look—” As he spoke, he threw his hand into the air to demonstrate—and winced as his muscle spasmed, the pain ignited anew. 

Raven’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Is this some kind of joke to you? Or are you actually stupid enough to think that you’re fit to fight?”

Starfire quickly wormed her way between them like a human shield, a sugary sweet smile plastered to her face. “I believe what Raven means to say is that we care very deeply for your safety, Beast Boy, and we would not wish to see you come to further harm if it can be avoided. Perhaps, in order to prevent complications, it would be best for you to remain here and keep watch instead?”

Behind her, Raven continued to stare daggers at him, an unspoken threat that left no room for negotiation.

He turned away from them both, leaning back against the tree and letting his attention fall to the other half of the abandoned battlefield. “Fine. I’ll just…wait here in case Robin shows up.”

One set of footsteps behind him quickly picked up in the opposite direction. The second pair lingered for a moment longer but shortly followed suit.

After a moment, both disappeared completely. 

Beast Boy sighed, running his hand along his shoulder. All around him, the ironic chirp of crickets rang through the hollow silence.

He scanned the field, taking in the bodies littering the ground. He didn’t want to think about how few of them he was responsible for. Whatever the number, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He turned, eyes falling to the opening in the ground.

“Raven wants me to play babysitter? Yeah, as if.”

If he could manage to stand, he could manage to fight. He’d already been fighting. Besides, there were plenty of animals that didn’t even have arms. He bit his lip, tossing ideas back and forth. There had to be something he could get away with—even if it was on a technicality.

The answer came to him in the form of something small, fuzzy, and decidedly armless. Of course, the distinction between arms and legs grew a bit blurry when it came to something like a bumblebee. It was a logistical loophole aided by the fact that his wings would be doing most of the work on the way down.

And it was a long way down. 

The passage wasn’t just dark—it was damp, slimy, and at least three times as cold as the wind chill on the surface. He could already feel his body starting to slow, not built for the dropping temperatures. After an agonizingly long descent, Beast Boy was beginning to second guess his decision—when suddenly a dim, yellow light crept into his peripheral. It slowly grew wider and wider until it occupied his entire field of view. 

A second later, he bumped up against a cold, solid surface at the bottom of the well—and took the opportunity to transform again. 

His scaly belly tingled against the frigid tile floor as he flicked his forked tongue, tasting the air for any hint of a trail to follow. He found the one he was looking for effortlessly. 

A few feet ahead, a handful of mice darted frantically into a large hole in the wall. A snake was probably a rare sight in a place like this—and for good reason. As he wove through the passageway, he could already feel his muscles straining. Whether from the cold or from his injury, he was quickly losing steam. A part of him wished he could pull over and ask for directions. Unfortunately, talking to animals wasn’t quite as easy as turning into them. Especially when you were at opposite ends of the food chain. 

When he rounded the first corner, the scent he’d been following shifted, buried under a slowly building cacophony of other smells. Mildew. Sawdust. Steel. Exhaust. Underneath it all, a sticky chemical residue lingered in the air, making his head spin.

At the next turn, he found out why.

Without warning, the hallway opened wide to reveal a large, cavernous warehouse. Stacks upon stacks of wooden crates lined the walls, with others grouped together by size on the floor. Several of the larger boxes had already been pried open, wood chips spilling out like pulpy guts between the yellowing, iron-studded boards. In the far corner, two forklifts sat temporarily abandoned amidst pallets of shrink-wrapped plastic containers and haphazardly poised glass terrariums.

Beast Boy quickly slithered along the edge of the wall, weaving through the debris toward one of the open crates. A cursory tongue sniff through the pine shavings confirmed that it was indeed empty—and had been for a while. Circling back, he found the discarded lid, where a string of words and numbers had been hastily scribbled in a thick, black script.

P. natalensis (N. 146, N. 589, N. 327)

A thrill of satisfaction swept through him as he glossed over the phrase one, two, three more times. It was exactly the sort of thing Robin would eat up—exactly the sort of thing that would earn him a bona fide pat on the back for his efforts, whether Raven liked it or not. 

So long as he could commit it to memory.

He checked the lid again. P. natalensis, P. natalensis, P. natalensis. He played the phrase like a broken record in his head. The digits were decidedly a lost cause. But if he could at least remember the word…

A headache was beginning to rumble behind his beady black eyes—when a catastrophic boom rang out at the opposite end of the room.

Beast Boy quickly slithered into the shadows cast by the fallen crate, taking refuge among the pine shavings.  

The ground shook with a violent fury, green beams of light carving explosive fissures in the subway tile. A few feet away, several of the crates rose into the air, only to be launched like missiles across the room. From the shadows, he shifted into a different shape—one that provided a sharpened sense of sight in the eerie gloom. Through the eyes of a tiny screech owl—with a decidedly inoperable right wing—he absorbed the scene unfolding before him, a panorama of unending movement. 

Raven came into frame first, hands raised and eyes aglow as she took possession of one of the forklifts, heaving it into the darkness. Despite the devastating blow, a horde of encroaching enemies slithered past her, a stream of red lasers emerging from the cloudy aftermath of the wreckage.

Not far behind, Starfire emerged from the fray, beating back another small battalion. Between shots, she redirected the flow of battle toward a tower of precariously poised crates. With a single blast the structure toppled, crushing a handful of androids underneath. 

There was a third group on the move behind them—but they didn’t seem interested in fighting. Instead, they barreled toward him, making moves to cart away the unopened crates as fast as their legs could carry them.

Raven and Starfire were more than qualified to handle the battle taking place on the other side of the room—but it was nothing more than a distraction.

A distraction that Beast Boy was going to make the most of.

Between one step and the next, he wrapped himself in the thick, gray armor of a rhinoceros, savoring the way the ground rumbled beneath his feet. The adrenaline coursing through his veins rendered the growing pain irrelevant. He lurched forward, skewering one of the androids on his massive horn and flinging it into the air like a rag doll. A stack of boxes tumbled to the ground like bowling pins. Glass shattered. Wires sparked. He plowed through the horde effortlessly, a living, breathing battering ram. No room for hesitation. No room for the hot, twisting pain in his shoulder rising to a crescendo. No room for the voice that told him to stop, stop, stop! 

Somewhere in the distance, someone was yelling. He had the distinct feeling they were yelling at him. 

It was the last thing he heard before his arm seized. Before the world slipped out from under him—and he went barreling head-first into the wall. 

Pain ripped through his body. The ground wavered beneath his feet. When he fell backwards, his horn took a chunk of the wall with it, raining shards of broken tile on his head. By the time he hit the floor, the raging beast had disappeared altogether, replaced by the shadow of a human too weak to control it.

A long metal staff hovered above him. With a shake, blue sparks crackled to life at the end of it. 

Knowing what came next didn’t make things any easier. 

The scream that erupted through the air didn’t feel like it belonged to him. Every muscle in his body clenched, the tension snapping like a slingshot as the weapon struck home. Agonizing pain rippled through every nerve, tearing through the very fabric of his being. Fingers twitched and limbs jerked completely out of his control. His vision was a curtain of black static, his body nothing more than a hazy afterimage tethered to the heart beating wildly behind his ribs. His arm screamed. His chest ached. Every inch of his body hurt like hell. 

By all accounts, it should have been a lethal blow. 

Maybe it had been. 

As the world faded from view, he became distantly aware of a collective presence looming over him—the weight of more shadows circling his lifeless body as the darkness grabbed hold. He tried and failed to open his eyes, each shaking breath strangled by the concentrated effort. A sharp ringing flooded his ears, the muffled sounds around him drowned out by the reverberating peal.

Until a deafening crash cut through the silence like a hot knife. 

More yelling. More words muddled through the thick fog of pain. Like wet clay, they slowly melded into shapes and ideas. Closer. Sharper. Threatening to rip right through the veil of shadow and tear him to pieces. He was too tired to care how or why they made it through when nothing else did. 

Get up, you idiot.

He wasn’t sure he could get up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Get. Up.

He tried to turn away. Sleep—all he wanted was to go to sleep.

Darkness wrapped around him. But it wasn’t cold or cruel or lonely in the way he expected it to be. It was strangely pleasant. Strangely sweet, feeling nothing after feeling far too much. He sank into its embrace effortlessly. He didn’t mind that he couldn’t hear the words anymore. Didn’t mind the silence in his mind.