Disclaimer: This is a fan work created at no profit and for entertainment purposes only. The author acknowledges that Teen Titans and related characters are property of Warner Entertainment.

Teen Titans – Master of the Poor Decision

Chapter 1 – Fearless Wretch

The ops room was in shambles, centered on the living area. Beast Boy's boombox had been driven through the coffee table and crushed so thoroughly flat that Cyborg was pretty sure it defied physics. Every cushion on the couch was shredded to ribbons, the stuffing mingling with the confetti that used to be Starfire's magazines (formerly stacked neatly on the coffee table).

Cyborg glanced forlornly up at the city and sighed. The remote was up there, embedded in the stucco. "Aww man! You really did it this time, grass stain. The game's coming on in an hour and our remote's part of the architecture now."

He returned his attention to his task; trying to force Beast Boy to hold the steak steady on his black eye. "And stop squirming. You don't have to eat it, ya just have to wear it a little while."

Beast Boy's black eye was part of a darkening bruise the went diagonally across his face; a bar the width and shape of the spine of a thick, hardcover book. It might have been Cyborg's imagination, but he swore he saw the reverse imprint of the 'The Way of Kings' in the bruise pattern. It was like Raven was expecting BB to do something stupid that day and came packing a doorstopper for the occasion.

Beside Cyborg stood Robin, arms folded, calmly waiting for the changeling's medical needs to be taken care of before delivering his speech.

Eventually, Beast Boy was made to sit still, holding the steak over his eye and grimacing.

"Care to explain?"Robin asked.

"Dude, why do I have to explain anything? Do you see any claw marks around here? I'm not the one that tore everything up, raven was. You both saw it: we went of on my over nothing!"

"Right." Cyborg said sarcastically. "Nothing like busting in here with that dang relic from the eighties when you knew she was trying to read?"

"And more or less jumping on her back?"

"And let's not forget shotung in her ear." Cyborg finished for Robin.

"Not shouting, singing!" Beast Boy defended. "I was just trying to get her into it. She's been even quieter lately than usual."

"What I want to know," Robin unfolded his arms and put his hands on his hips. It reminded Beast Boy of Mento when he was in full blown fatherly lecture mode. "Is what possessed you to ambush her with that particular song and that particular lyric."

Beast Boy looked offended. "What? The band rocks, the song rocks. And I was just singing what was playing right then. Where's the problem in that?"

"Man, are you really that oblivious?" Cyborg asked. "Especially when it hasn't even been a whole month sicne the whole Trigon thing?"

"What did I do wrong?" Beast Boy shrunk back from both of them.

Robin sighed. "I want you to listen to what you sing-screamed in her ear and think long and hard. Cyborg?"

The mechanical Titan tapped the controls on his arm and queued up the offending lyric. The distinct, grinding baseline filled the room, soon accompanied by the vocals: 'Hybrid children watch the sea/Pray for Father roaming free!'. Cyborg stopped the clip there.

Beast Boy blinked and tried to do that thinking really hard thing Robin just told him to do. What was so wrong with hybrid children and their fath...

"Oh."