Hello again. If some of you read my other stories you'll know i'm currently a bit ill, so updates will be a bit slower than usual. But since i'm such a loving author I decided to update this story today. Please, enjoy. IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: Should I write a parody story where Zatanna bewitches Klarion for fun and revenge and the result is her making him sing a multitude of songs? Some dirty and some funny but overall crazy and he can actually sing? Oh! And maybe even one where they go under cover as a punk/rock band for some reason and Batman makes Klarion the singer because he looks the part! XD

Comfortee: Robin (You should know this chapter takes place during the episode where they got to the circus and Robin does the acrobatics role. Forgive me, I can't remember the episode name.)

Klarion can deal with noise. With loud screeches and howls, haunting wails and shrieks of despair. It's nothing new, just the usual noise that batters his skull from the inside. Because as he is the embodiment of Chaos personified, it s as such that he feel and hear all the problems in the world he occupies. And although he won't admit it out loud, he knows he's probably a little insane. You can't have Chaos without insanity, he reasons. Teekl never understands his logic, though, maybe that's because no matter how smart she thinks she is; she's still just a feline. (Shut up, Teekl. It was a compliment. Sort of.) So yes, Klarion likes noise, welcomes it even. But there's only so much he can take from the world added to his own head.

People were everywhere around him. Bodies were jostling one another and insolent children were shrieking in delight. The air perfumed with the wretched smell of sugar and love and happiness. Enormous grins painting the faces of everyone in the arena tent. Light flash over head and he lets his onyx orbs flit to look up and then back to the task on hand. (He thinks, maybe, if he were mortal he might convulse from the ever flickering light that seem to be everywhere.)In his opinion he thinks he looks ridiculous. Klarion's going to hex the Batman for making him part of this particular mission. Because, no, really. the circus costumes. (Teekl, stop laughing you useless creature!)

Everything he's been forced to wear is an unholy shade of bright, bright white. Like a dove's wings. Klarion hates it, hates the color white. Black is much better, black is chaotic. Every color of the ever so happy rainbow thrown together to create a mess. He's getting off track, he does that a lot, he notes. The rest of the team's costumes aren't so bad, at least they cover a fair amount of skin and decent masks. Klarion, on the other hand, was not so modestly covered. Not to say he was preforming naked, but he felt as though he was. His already alabaster skin dulled in comparison to the white sleeveless vest accentuated with black detailing he wore that exposed both his entire arms, chest and torso to those in the circus tent. White pants that felt as though they were trying to become one with his legs adorned the lower part of his body, paired with pointed black and white dress shoes. He's willing to bet his anchor to this world the shoes are supposed to be a more modern spin off of old witch stories. He's not amused by that, given his heritage.

Stretching from his mid-upper arm to end fingerless are a pair of gloves that seem to make his spider like fingers longer all the while accenting his curled black claws. Finally to complete his terrible costume the circus master thrust a white wing tipped mask over his eyes and told him not to remove it until the end of the entire show.

"Gives your eyes a 'scare factor', dark and foreboding. You're not half bad looking in the get-up kid, I might have to keep you on fulltime!", the old geezer had said. (Oh, poor Fate, he's been replaced.) Klarion balled his fists until the sharp pain from his nails forces him to stop. He tries to reason with himself that killing this man is not going to help him. That doesn't really help, and he walks away before his hands get a mind of their own and wrap around the old man's neck. They've been known t0o do that before, get a mind of their own. Accidently. (They're not accidents.)

Klarion's supposed to be bringing the magic to tonight's act. He wants to cackle because, if only they knew. He debates using real magic, but decides against it, it's a waste of his talents anyway. So instead he just moves his arms the way he was told to and watches in boredom as smoke 'bends to his will' as the Ring Leader bellowed to the foolish crowd. Human minds were stupid things, believing anything they see or hear. A flick of the wrist from the Ring Leader and Klarion knows that's his cue to smirk and open his mouth to spew fire. Purple faux flames billow in pillars into the air and the crowd shrieks with delight. Klarion just thinks he needs some ear plugs. He's so bored that he wishes something would happen. Well, Klarion usually gets what he wants.

There's suddenly a gasp ringing through the arena and everyone goes silent. It's deafening. He can see all eyes locked onto something in the air above his head. Then takes a minute to wonder, why? Oh, that's right, the acrobats. The Martian girl and Robin are flying through the air. Or at least one of them is. The fiery haired girl has her legs firmly locked onto the bar, and is watching is terror as her partner starts plummeting to the dirt floor below. Robin's going o die, he thinks. This is his team mate, he should be worried, yes? Rush to save him, that's what the others would do.

"Robin!", she shrieks through the mind link established before the show, and Klarion winces from the noise. She's too loud, everything about that girl is too loud. Klarion decides he doesn't like her form of Chaos. He focuses back on the boy falling through the air.

The thing is, Klarion doesn't care that he's going to die. He's actually wishing the boy would fall faster, so he can hear the crack of bones and the sweet sound of a person losing their life. He really does. Watches with such precision that later Teekl would tell him he looked crazed. Klarion doesn't care, he knows he is. Three..two..one...crunch.

...

Klarion throws his back claws towards the heavens and suddenly Robin is engulfed in a cloud of red. It swirls like a cyclone and then vanishes, and where the boy once was is not nothing but empty. The arena erupts in cheers and applause, so thunderous he could mistake them as a thunderstorm. Robin waves from the acrobats landing to the relieves people. His eyes are filled with relief, disbelief, and confusion. And, Klarion really didn't want to. He'd rather have watched the bird's death, but. The other's would have surely grieved, and that would be boring. He hates boring. So he played the hero just this once.

These insolent children are clouding my mind, influencing my actions. I refuse to play the hero again. He sneers to himself in his head. Or what he thinks is just his head, because he's forgotten the mind link, and they all hear that thought. It's a mistake Klarion's going to throw a tantrum over later. For now he doesn't know. In the madness of the moment Klarion stalks out of the center ring and disappears backstage, he will not stand to be in this costume any longer. If he would've looked behind him he'd have noticed the pairs of eyes following him, one particular pair of blue following his figure in confused wonder.

Birds are supposed to fly, aren't they? Like riding a bicycle. Once they learn they never forget and trust their wings to carry them, and not let them fall. He thinks as he peels off the outfit and redressed to his usual attire.

Robin thinks about those words echoing in his head, and tries to ignore a sudden tingle in his chest. He knows what it is, he knows he now has a newfound respect for Klarion the Witch Boy. And maybe the words he doesn't say as conscious comfort, too.

How many of you actually thought I was going to kill Robin?