Epilogue:

A/N: Well, this will wrap things up. I appreciate you guys for your Reviews and your dedication. Love ya, my peeps!

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Disclaimer: Here we go again, complete with disclaimers, references, and unbidden ends.

Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*

The Proposition:

Epilogue:

Five weeks later…

"Good. Now parry!"

Raven switched from her attack stance as fast as she could, followed quickly by attempts to deflect or avoid a flurry of quick grapples and jabs. She held her own, using her smaller size to her advantage; all the while, her altered body allowed her to block and dodge swiftly. She pressed her advantage after she palmed away a jab, stepping in quickly to trip up her opponent. She was met with air, only to feel pressure around her wrist as she was lifted off her feet, and rolled heavily onto the less-than-soft mat. The wind knocked out of her for a moment, she struggled in vain as she was pinned down by a weight.

All at once, she could breathe again, the pressure gone. "Nice break in rhythm. You want to keep your opponent on their toes. You're improving."

Taking another set of steadying breaths, she opened her eyes to see Robin's, or rather, Nightwing once his paperwork went through for the name-change, black-gloved hand reaching down, offering her a hand up. Little had changed on the Tower surface, save for their leader's new moniker, which came as a pleasant surprise to the public, though even the Titans didn't know why he had chosen that handle specifically. The real changes had occurred on the inside

Cyborg had made many updates to the Tower. Among them, he'd installed a new combat scenario room, which consisted of three-dimensional hard-light holo-projectors (courtesy of the Watchtower) that imitated enemies and villains Cyborg had analyzed, observed, and recorded over the years; including a program that gave them life-like reactions and tactics based on their individual styles of combat. Raven was particularly fond of combat practice against "Adonis" that usually ended in terrorized screams.

The half-robot had also updated and installed new and improved computer equipment, complete with better crime tracking, firewalls, and processing power. The Tower itself was now equipped with more energy-efficient sources of power, namely solar panelled windows. As it stood, he was currently installing the first of the hydro-kinetic power generators. There was only so much even he could do in such a short amount of time though.

Raven grunted slightly as she accepted the hand up, using the bracing as she pulled herself to her feet. "I'm not that good," she stated.

"I said you were improving," he reiterated with a slightly winded tone. "Harnessing your strength and speed on more than just impulse is only part of the equation. Actively asserting it and combining it with your powers is another matter altogether. Once you have the basics down, that will take–"

"Time and practice," Raven interrupted, having heard the same speech over the past few weeks almost religiously. "I know Dick."

He tensed slightly before giving an amused smile. "Sorry, still not used to being called by my birth name. It's kind of strange after all these years."

Raven just shrugged as she walked over to one of the training room's benches, quickly taking a swig of the water bottle she had brought for just such an occasion. To say the least, she was dressed for the work out, clothed in a simple dark blue sports tank top, sparring sweats and tennis shoes; all of which had been picked out by Starfire, which had gone through her alien scrutiny as both fashionable and practical. Not that Raven knew much about either when it came to clothing.

Thus far into their training, she was faring better than their leader had anticipated, her improved lung and heart efficiency preventing her from winding fast, but still needing to be conditioned to the soon-to-be-former Boy Wonder's rigorous training regimen. Besides that, he had years of practice and discipline under his belt from Batman no less, and fought hand-to-hand regularly with villains; while in Raven's case she was a mid-ranged combatant, and for her, it was more of a spur of the moment exercise.

And it helped calm her senses. For reasons beyond her, physical exertion helped focus her senses, even if only momentarily. As it stood, two months was still too little time to harness her new-found acuity, but she was finding ways to constructively deal with, or ground, them.

"You up for another round?" Richard asked, gently popping his neck and rolling his shoulders in preparation.

Raven just barely smirked slightly at his eagerness, gently shaking her head in response. "If it's all the same, you did tell me to pace myself. Besides, I still have the paperwork to finish."

He frowned slightly at that, catching the water bottle Raven tossed at him. "Ah, the adoption. How's that going?" he asked, before popping the top and taking a small sip.

Uncharacteristically, she sighed deeply, an acknowledgment to just how much it was affecting her. She took another small drink. "It could be worse. On the other hand, it could be a whole lot better. There's the fact that I'd be bringing them from overseas. Then there's getting them citizenship. And there's also proving that I'm a suitable guardian. The background checks have background checks. And given I wasn't born a citizen of Earth and the kids are meta-human, the paperwork triples. On top of that, I've been given the "turn-around" treatment twice now. You'd think the Bureau of Consular Affairs would be more organized."

"I can put a call in," Nightwing offered nonchalantly, "see if I can pull some strings. I have some contacts as a hero that could speed the process along."

"And Richard Grayson doesn't?" she asked with a hint of humor, already knowing the answer.

"My identities aren't publicly synonymous," he replied, not catching on to her humor. "If I started pulling strings as Richard Grayson for the Titan Raven, it might make someone suspicious."

Raven couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I know. I was being facetious," she commented, before seriously considering his offer. "I'll be fine. This is one of those things that I want to do myself. I want to go through the process properly. But if they put me through the loop one more time, I'll personally visit them myself."

Nightwing swallowed nervously, neither having the heart to stop her, nor having the courage to do so either. He could only imagine the calls he'd get if Raven suddenly showed up at a government office, demanding for the proper authorization to officially adopt her kids.

'All Nine Hells hath no fury like a stone-walled Raven,' he thought nervously. 'Maybe I should put in a call or two anyway.'

"Thanks for the offer though," she said with a grateful tone. "I might have to take you up on it if things don't start making progress."

"Yeah, any time," he replied. "I'm kind of excited by the prospect of training some younger heroes."

Raven frowned slightly, her gaze narrowing on the Titan's leader. "I'm not adopting them so you can turn them into your students. If they want to be heroes, I want them to make that choice."

"Hey, it was my turn to be facetious," he answered light-heartedly, half-consciously looking at the clock on the wall. "Well, if we're going to be calling training for the day, I have some stuff to work on. Make sure you stay hydrated."

"Will do. And tell Starfire I said hi," Raven jabbed, already walking toward the Training Room door with her gear in-tow before he could formulate an answer.

It seemed like so little had changed, but in truth, Raven wondered if that was true. Even as she walked down the hall toward the girls showers, she knew that a lot had changed.

Two months.

It had been two months since the changeling had left, five weeks since she had caught any traces of him. Cyborg and Ro- Nightwing's, proxies hadn't found so much as a hiccup, and it had long since been clear that they weren't ever going to get one. He had disappeared. Even magic, forces both benign and concepts inter-dimensional, couldn't locate him.

It had been the worst to delegate when Nightwing, still Robin at the time, had made it clear that they needed to reach outside their sphere of influence. They had tried everything their way. The only options left was for someone who wasn't as constrained to a single area as the Titans were.

As it stood, Raven had been the one to volunteer to break the news to the Doom Patrol with her team present, both as the family to their missing friend, and for help. They had been out on assignment, and therefore, hadn't been informed via media outlets just yet. Even though it was better to hear it from his teammates, it was still hard to forget those looks. Robot Man and Negative Man looked like the Brain had thrashed them all over again. Mento looked disturbed, but already seemed to take the news in stride, as if it were something he had eventually planned for; though it was clear that this was the last thing he expected.

Elasti-girl… Rita, was the one who took it the hardest. She was shocked one moment, crying the next, but then she was angry. She demanded to know what had happened, why they had taken so long to contact them. How could they have let her son just disappear? There was nothing any of them could say except that they had tried everything. Of course, that wasn't enough; even when Robin had pointed out that they had utilized the Justice League; or Raven had commented that even magic couldn't find him. It wouldn't satiate her. The Titans had failed her son, and if they had informed the Patrol sooner, they might have found him. There was no forgiving that.

Finally old enough to be an aspiring adoptive mother herself, Raven perhaps understood her point-of-view better than most people. It was a very tunnel-vision, acute view that didn't allow room for error or mistakes. Maybe they should have contacted them sooner; but that wouldn't have changed anything. Beast Boy would still be in the wind, and no matter how much Rita wished otherwise, he didn't want to be found, and therefore wouldn't be.

That had been a month ago.

Raven entered the bathroom, setting her stuff aside before starting up the spray of water, giving it time to heat up. She couldn't help but rest her hands on the bathroom sink, staring into her own eyes through the mirror.

It was clear now that so much time couldn't pass without them adapting to it. Their team dynamic, which had long since had the changeling as a versatile distraction and a heavy front-liner of the group, had changed to accommodate without him. As a team, they fought differently without their missing body, and now it was becoming easier to do so. In part, that scared Raven, as if eventually, he would be forgotten altogether.

Of course, in her heart, she knew otherwise. While Nightwing hadn't had a coincided past-time with the changeling, but he sometimes checked his communicator, as if waiting for a call; before remembering that Beast Boy had left his communicator in his room. Starfire sometimes watched cartoons that she and the shapeshifter had enjoyed together, including recorded reruns of Dora the Explorer and the Bachelorette (which he never watched) he had religiously made sure to save for her (even at the expense of Cyborgs Hells Kitchen and Master Chef recordings); and now the princess was saving his favorite shows while eating entire ladles-full of the Pudding of Sadness during her reruns.

Cyborg was only sinking further into his slump. When he wasn't working on the Tower, he was working on the T-car… that he'd already repaired and serviced multiple times now. He didn't even touch the Game Station in their off-time; and mornings consisted of him going through the boring motions that lacked the consistent fighting over meat versus tofu. Raven would never tell anyone, but she had caught the half-robot rebuilding the stupid broken moped Beast Boy had kept as a souvenir for his defeat of the Source. She'd even found him finishing off the last of the changeling's tofu, saying in a dejected tone that it was going to go bad otherwise.

Two months? It seemed like so little time, but at the same time it felt like eternity. Even as Raven moved away from the mirror to peal off her sweaty clothes, it made her contemplate everything that had changed in that time.

Robin, Speedy, and Aqualad were now moving on toward roles as Nightwing, Arsenal, and Tempest respectively. There was talking about setting up a Titans South and a few overseas branches. And she was attempting to officially adopt her kids. It was what she had wanted, since the moment she had first claimed them as her own. Being a legal adult, it gave her that opportunity. She was going to officially be a mother, something she never thought she could be; not in that lifetime, or even the next. Even as she stepped under the hot water, it was hard for her to fathom.

Her abominable blood, both human and demon… hybrid. As far as she knew, she was sterile; always had been. She hadn't shown signs of menstruation, and therefore, needed little convincing otherwise. Prior to her sixteenth birthday and her father's defeat, she would have considered this a necessary and preferred aspect of her biology. She couldn't get pregnant. No one else would be burdened with Trigon's blood, especially not a life that, if her understanding was correct, she would bond with over the course of nine months (if that was indeed a half-demon's gestation period). This bond was more so, because of her empathic abilities. She wouldn't wish her necessary lifestyle of bottling her emotions on anyone, especially not her own child.

But, something had changed after being freed from Trigon's influence. The idea of living, of being wanted, of being needed, of being loved. She desired that. But even if she could conceive, she didn't think she would want to, much less engage in sexual relations. Her unstable, emotionally charged powers aside; she was born of Trigon's forceful taking, and therefore, had little-to-no positive view of intercourse as a result. How could she? She didn't know if she could allow herself such a vulnerability, when her mother had been debased to a carrier of her father's seed. To be at someone else's mercy voluntarily when she herself was the result of mercies violently taken? No. The idea of any sexual activity was surprisingly far from the half-demon's mind, despite how dirty-minded her emoticlones could be. That left adoption as her final option.

She was trying to be a mother to her kids. Her beautiful kids. Not an ounce of her DNA, and she would always claim them as her own. Since being freed of Trigon, it was perhaps the first thing she had truly desired for herself. She wanted to be their mother: to read them bedtime stories, to make them breakfast (she'd have to work on not burning water), making sure they were ready for school in the morning, to help with homework, tie shoes, and eat ice cream. To give them something she herself had never known at their age: affection, love, protection, support, hope. To help them feel wanted and desired in the world.

Her, the spawn of one of the most infamous demons in the Universe; her, an eighteen-year-old hero that could barely rarely feel emotion or express herself in any capacity before something blew up. Her, the girl that no one wanted.

For some reason, it broke her heart; or rather, lightened her heart so much, its already fragile strands felt non-existent. She sat down, feeling as the water beat down on her back as she pulled her legs to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees as she stifled a small sob.

It wasn't despair that plagued her mind, or weighed her down. Her life had been full of that. No, it was more complicated than that. For one of the few moments in her life, Raven felt something small inside her burst the dams of her Soul. Fear. The terror that something that made her Happy would be snatched away from her grasp again. That something she truly wanted would be denied her. That her unbreakable, but frail, Hope would once more be broken down. She'd all but lost her best friend. She didn't know if she could stand the adoption not going through. But a part of her wondered if it was self-reliance that had rejected Nightwing's offer of assistance, or if she was sub-consciously sabotaging herself; trying to continue punishing herself for being a demon's daughter.

A selfish part of her knew she needed her kids, and that annoying Hopeful part of her wondered if they need her too. Melvin. Timothy. Tyler. Even Bobby. Once again, she was lost whether or not to hold out her Hope. She didn't want circumstance to leave her all alone again.

'You think you're alone, Raven. But you're not.' But Azarath was taken from her, engulfed in a fiery inferno along with her mother and teacher. She'd destroyed her home, Earth, once. The changeling had left, assuming he was protecting them... her. If someone took her kids from her–

'Boo-fuckin'-hoo,' Rage growled, prompting Raven to sit up in confusion, her sopped hair falling in her face. 'Are you just going to whine about it? Azar! If self-pity were one of us, she'd make daddy dearest look like a flea.'

'What do you want, Rage?' she asked, sniffing slightly as she leaned back, letting the water pour over her head. The warmth was soothing.

'What I want is for you to do something about it!' Rage raged, Raven's chakra stinging from the sheer intensity. 'Bitch, we're half-demon! We have power that transcends puny mortal understanding!'

'But-'

'And we're half-human,' Rage interrupted gently, causing Raven to pause, watching as Rage's four glowing eyes softened in her mind's-eye. 'We feel. I feel. If something or someone wants to take me from my kids….' Raven felt heat blossom as her chest tightened, her jaw reflexively grinding. '…I will rip them apart,' Rage hissed demonically. 'It may be the demon that craves violence, but it's the human in you that would adhere to it to protect what you love. That's us. The ol' sperm-donner didn't give us this, and our mother didn't cultivate it.

'Our friends did,' she finished gently. 'We're powerful enough to stop time! If we want to be a mom, then I dare anyone, to stop us. Now wrap up your pity-party, and get that shitty paperwork done! And get it done right! If I catch you moping again, I will personally rip out of your head, and kick you in the ass repeatedly until the green cows come home! By this time next month, I'd better be tucking in our little hellions.'

"Right," Raven acknowledged aloud, but a part of her, no matter how small, still worried. About her kids, about where the Titans would go from here on out… about if Beast Boy missed them as much as sh- they missed him.

The future looked simultaneously both bleak and bright. The future no better than a partial eclipse.

Meanwhile…

Richard walked down the hall in contemplation, fiddling with the tablet in hand as he portably scrolled through the Titan's list of villains.

Thanks to some remote triggers across his proxies, he was given virtually unlimited access to the records concerning their escaped and imprisoned villains. Many were exactly where they should be: frozen, with an assortment of sentences ranging from years to multiple lifetimes. Some had escaped from their icy prisons from reasons varying from negligence to being broken out by other criminals. For the most part, Richard didn't mind that villains escaped sometimes; it meant job security for heroes, even if he preferred they stay locked up quietly. But being stone-walled about information concerning one of the largest collective gatherings of villains in recorded history was not something he could abide by.

What drew his attention from the imprisoned and the escaped however was something else entirely. Some of their villains had been transferred in an official capacity, with no trace as to where they had been taken. Most of the documents and their digital copies had been redacted. Severely. No forwarding addresses; no identification of who had signed for them. There was just nothing.

He could at least understand why he had been stone-walled now. Who in their right mind would mess with this much black-smudge? He'd be lucky to find a legible word here or there, and certainly nothing collectively comprehensible. Whatever, or whoever, was covering their tracks, had federal clearance that was making Richard's head spin. But what concerned him the most was that Killer Moth, Fang, Angel, Kyd Wykkyd, Andre Le Blanc, Mallah, and the Brain were all redacted. "Strange" was one word for it. "Suicidal" was another! Who in their right mind would transfer the Brain or his simian minion?! Those two alone were more than challenging; not to mention that Nightwing knew they would learn from any past mistakes given the opportunity they were unfrozen. But the others? It didn't make sense.

What's more, Richard scrolled through a few of the new villains. The meta-rat, nicknamed Vermin (because Cyborg suggesting "Splinter", was a walking copy-right infringement), was the first; and according to the Tower's analysis, was pumped full of naturally occurring bio-chemical that eerily resembled the batch that had made Beast Boy and Adonis into a pair of Apex beasts over three years ago. Other than the obvious, there were no other familiar developments. Regardless, Richard made a side-note to see if Cyborg could develop another cure. Last thing Jump City needed was mutated anythings running around. If there was a leak in some science experiment gone wrong, it needed plugged, and fast.

The next scroll revealed a blurry phone captured photo of one of the newbies that had arisen. Another meta-human, this one described as having cryo-kinetic generation and manipulation abilities, and no younger than late high school age. Nicknamed Icicle. Multiple banks robbed. No fatalities, but a number of officers and security detail were left with critical conditions of hypothermia. The associated images weren't pretty to say the least.

Another new villain. Or rather, villainess. Late teens meta-human. Assumed abilities included controlled explosive combustion and speculated skills in gymnastics. Worthy notes include acute control over ability and its implications, including propulsion applications. Nicknamed Dynamite. No fatalities caused. Massive property damages, and some injuries caused by the debris of said damages. Mostly jewelry stores robbed, but also the occasional local grocery store… robbed of its Ka-boom! Chewing Candies and Skittles… at least it was a half-solid lead, even if it included every store and gas station in Jump City.

Also, a newly emerged gun-for-hire. Unknown gender. No known priors. Given the data was passed down from Zatanna, Richard assumed the gunman possessed some arcane ability. Which meant unknown magic affinities, but it was conclusive that he, or she, favored the usage of a long-range, possibly marksman-class, rifle. Whether or not there was a direct synergy between the arcane and the rifle is unknown. Nicknamed Hex. Several fatalities. No wounded. So far, a perfect kill streak. Mostly the information was a warning that the new villain might travel through Jump City's neck of the woods.

'And the news keeps on getting better,' he thought sarcastically, shaking his head as he continued to walk and read. Absently, he moved away from upcropping villains, and on to more speculative news that required his deduction.

Red X was continuing his escapade as an aspiring underworld kingpin. Allegedly. Gangs were cropping up in Jump, sporting his skull shaped masks with red slashes across them. They weren't as cloak and dagger as Red X or his previous associates had been, committing openly violent crimes in broad daylight, and without tact. Nightwing suspected a following, single-banner propaganda. He doubted Red X was the one pulling the strings though; the gang's style wasn't his MO. But unless he could sit down and have a chat with the on-and-off villain, he couldn't put past him. Besides, if he wasn't really behind it, then X would either make contact with the Titan's, or deal with it himself. So far, the Titans and the police had already made over a few dozen arrests involving such cases.

And in other news, an unknown anomaly had recently sprung up, with corpses showing up in alley's drained of blood, but no distinguishable markings or injuries that would explain why; so that dissuaded him from a vampire theory. He marked it as "Pending Investigation", but made sure the JCPD coroner tested for potential diseases or viruses. The last thing Jump needed was an outbreak. If it was a villain, then that was one more villain Richard could clock with murder. Still, he'd run it by the team as far as potential scenarios went. As far as gruesome cases went, it was times like these he knew the team needed their jokester-friend back.

Another anomaly. World-wide. Rumors and notes from Hotspot and Wildebeest in Africa; Pantha, Mas, and Menos in Central and South America; Bushido in Asia; Argent in Australia; Tempest and Tramm from multiple oceanic fronts; even Kole and Gnark up in their polar-temperate dinosaurian abode. Abnormal animal behaviors and patterns that deviated from the norm. Mass migratory patterns that diverted from decades of corresponding data, predatorial and prey species alike were showing increased levels of agitation, and in some cases, geographical displacement. Stranger yet, domesticated animals seemed unaffected. It left a great big question mark over Nightwing's head. To his knowledge, nothing could have such a specified and targeted effect, much less across the globe. "Pending Investigation". How did Siberian Snow Leopards end up in Canada? Or an Amazonian Toucan in the Congo jungle? Or Bald Eagles in India? It was a mess that Nightwing wasn't keen to sort through just yet.

What's more, there was possible evidence that Slade had resurfaced. Unconfirmed, but Richard put it near the top of his priorities list. He wasn't about to jump up on a rumor, but he couldn't fully ignore it either. Suffice to say, it was taking a great deal of self-control to keep from following up immediately.

'What is the world coming to?' he thought dejectedly, turning off the portable device hooking it to his belt. He needed to gather and calm his thoughts. With that in mind, he half-consciously wandered toward the Tower Commons, knowing that a cup of coffee and a meditation session had his name on it.

To say that God, or the Universe, worked mysteriously would be an understatement. Sometimes, the smallest things, in the smallest ways, could have the biggest impacts. A simple sneeze could be the starting force of a tornado in Kansas. A rain drop could raise the ocean. That was what Richard John Grayson felt as the door to the Commons swish!ed open.

After all the thoughts about adoptions, villains, assassin's, and pending investigations of strange and potentially deadly events; he felt his body crawl to a stand-still.

His beloved floated in front of the windows, overlooking the bay. He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was deep in meditation. Maybe it was only the vast chasm of thoughts between the detriments of the profession, and the delight of seeing her, influencing his perspectives; but for reasons unbeknownst to him, she looked absolutely stunning.

Her red hair had changed a little in the past couple months, gradually growing wavier as it grew longer. Her skin tones had gradually gained more luster, as though shimmering something between bronze and gold. Her eyes as of late sparkled like the fleshed gemstones he imagined them to be. Something about her had changed in the past couple months, and he couldn't put his finger on it. While the dynamic of their relationship was much the same, there was something deeper, more meaningful between their warm cuddles, or their (her) excited hugs, or their passionate kisses, or their subtle teases.

Something… glorious.

And even then in the morning sun, doing something he'd seen her do so often before, he was baffled at just how beautiful she was. He couldn't see her face, but her shoulders were loose and relaxed, her back comfortably straight. Her legs crossed, and her hands positioned in the reflective stance of her meditations as she floated a couple feet off the ground.

Maybe it was the vast difference between the thoughts of villains and the thoughts of her, but in that moment, Richard's palms sweated as he reached down toward his utility belt, opening one of the pouches almost numbly, and pulling out a small box. He fiddled with it slightly, swallowing nervously as the sheer weight of realization hit him like a demolition truck packed to the brim with C-4.

He slowly walked forward, hoping his rapidly cooling feet would warm up a little before they froze over and sent him flying like a bird out of Hell. His tongue felt weighty, his mouth felt dry. The small, rounded plastic cube in his hand was growing heavier with each step. He hoped, he prayed; he did whatever he could to keep his mind from abandoning him, or worse yet, put the wrong words in his mouth.

He'd carried that little box for a long time, waiting for the right time, waiting from the right moment. He hoped at times that it would be perfect, but now, in this moment, he knew that perfect was in the eye of the beholder.

And X'hal, she looked perfect.

Arms trembling, he stopped half a foot to her right and just behind her. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find he didn't have the words. He tried again, only for his tongue to abandon him and slap lamely against his teeth. Richard almost hoped that an alert would interrupt him before he made an absolute fool of himself. Almost.

He swallowed again, closing his eyes for a moment to recompose himself before nodding quickly to psych himself up. "Starfire," he wheezed pathetically, quickly clearing his throat in surprise as he tried again. "Starfire?"

And just like that, he was lost again. Her eyes opened slowly, as if she had been peacefully sleeping, the turn of her head half-draping her hair over one shoulder. Her eyes visibly lit up when she saw him, and a small smile took form on her face.

"Good morning, Richard," she greeted brightly.

"Guu-" he cleared his throat again. "Good morning."

She smiled at his flustering, waiting patiently for a moment before she stared at him curiously when he didn't say anything else. "Was there something you wished to discuss?"

Richard wished he had written down the speech he had rigorously prepared for this moment. Not that it would have mattered if he had. All the words in the world didn't seem to measure up as he rapidly processed all of them, and immediately threw them into a mental paper shredder. So far, he was down his thesaurus, his encyclopedia, and half his dictionary. 'Shred, shred, shred.'

'You fool, say something!' he cried to himself, only for the gears between his brain and his tongue to suddenly grind to halt, courtesy of the wrench jam known as "emotional constipation".

"Um," he muttered, his masked eye starting to twitch and a vein in his forehead bulging from the sheer amount of stress and pressure. How was he supposed to do this?! He couldn't handle this! Was it too soon?! Yeah, it had to be! But-

Her head tilted slightly, her pure green eyes widening slightly in a manner he identified as inquisitive.

("Oh no! Robi- I mean Nightwing needs help! Quickly!" Larry cried from his home dimension, brandishing his magic finger. He quickly rubbed it together with his thumb, creating a small static charge. He diligently held out its sparking end toward the dimensional walls, turning away with one eye half-closed as he shouted. "CLEAR!" BZZZZ!)

Richard felt his head abruptly smoke and backfire as the gears between his brain and tongue snapped "emotional constipation" in two. His eyes widened suddenly as he dropped to one knee, now eye-level with a floating Starfire, startling her.

"Koriand'r of Tamaran." Her eyes grew to the size of saucers at her birth name. "I'm not good at this whole thing, and I don't ever intend to be, because this sort of thing makes me nervous, but I'll do my best anyway…."

He breathed in deeply through his nose, gently lifting up the box with one hand and holding the opening with the other. His words were failing him again, and one jumpstart from across dimensions was one too many. He was losing it, and fast, but he was too far gone now.

'Be the hurricane. Where winds whip, and waves crash, there is always calm at its center,' the voice of the True Master echoed in his head.

"…Koriand'r of Tamaran… Starfire, I have… a proposition… I'd like to make with you," he forced out, his voice trembling slightly as he barely straddled the fence dividing the chaos from the eye of his own proverbial hurricane. And with that, the lid fully lifted, revealing the most important thing he'd ever made to-date, for the most important person he'd ever met.

At that moment…

Just off the lapping shores of Titan's Island and several feet underwater, acetylene sparks flew as the water boiled upward, machinery pieces welded together. Wires superheated and connected, almost ready to begin the power-up sequence.

Cyborg stood in a fully mechanical dive suit as he retracted the torch in his finger. A few more minutes and he'd have their first hydro-current generator online. He rubbed his hands together in a scratchy hum that droned in the water. "Okay baby, don't let daddy down."

Half-holding his breath, he opened a waterproofed console on his suited arm, pressing several buttons before sliding a digital bar up. Even under the waves, he heard as the generator began to hum. "She lives!" he cried for joy, squeakily wiping away at his porthole as he brimmed with pride. "And that is the sound of clean, unlimited, free!, energy." He patted his handiwork lovingly before he began making his way back toward the dry land.

Little did the half-robot know, he should have waited another hour or two after he would have installed a power regulator and circuit breaker before turning on his new baby.

In the Tower girls bathroom, a half-demoness was suddenly enveloped in darkness that rapidly faded with her enhanced eyesight as the bulbs overhead burst, and the heat to her shower turned to a surprisingly comfortable two-hundred degrees and rising. However, the steamy heat was getting surprisingly dense, really fast.

Throughout the Tower, bulbs shattered, electronics fizzled before exploding into sparks and makeshift shrapnel, and the entire electrical systems fried.

In the Commons room, the kitchen had turned into a war zone between the Waffle-O-Matic and the microwave, the TV had set on fire, and the Game Station, in an act of bitter rivalry, exploded, sending the TV through the newly installed solar window, only for the TV to smash on the rocks far below.

Meanwhile, less than five feet away, Starfire was on top of Robin, shielding his body from the ensuing destruction as she kissed him deeply.

As Richard Grayson, known as Nightwing, laid there with his girlfriend holding him so tight, he knew that the Universe was indeed a mystery; and it had mysteriously brought them together.

Still, that had to be the most explosive proposal in the history of mankind. It even came with its own "home-made" fireworks. The last time things had been this much of a blast, they had sat atop a ferris-wheel, gazing out over the pier as the sky lit up. Or maybe it had been when they danced on a cruise ship rented out for a high school's prom. Perhaps, it had been when they "kissed" for the first time, the smoke of destroyed cars in the city street scalding the air as she assimilated the English language via their lip contact. But nothing was as intimate as when they had kissed for the "first" time, after defeating Daizo, her lips had tasted like ink, but even that couldn't get him to pull away.

Take all of that combined, and to him, it was even better now.

Despite that, he was calm.

For the first time, he knew he'd found his center there with her. And for the rest of his life, he knew where he wanted to be.

Meanwhile, Just Outside an Apartment in Jump City's…

Morgan Lassiter could honestly say she hated getting out of bed. But, let it never be said that the occupational throws of night school wasn't for the desperate, the time-constrained, the assumedly nimrodic, and the potentially insane. It was barely ten o'clock in the morning, and she was more than a few hours shy of bright eyed and bushy-tailed.

Of course, it didn't help that her early morning shift employee couldn't bother to show up on time, and of course, that meant her happy ass had to fill in for them since she couldn't afford to detract from business; which simultaneously meant that she needed to cover two shifts that day, and she had a Fall mid-term coming up in a couple months (What? Best to plan ahead) Typical of her hard work mentality and etiquette, she was more than willing to cover the dead morning shift, set up the coffee for the early morning commuters, ensure that the mid-morning-to-afternoon shift employees were informed of the development, and life moved on for her little start-up coffee and book shop, a quaint little establishment called Paper Wings. However, that was the fourth no-call-no-show from that particular employee, and she'd be damned if it happened again. Still, it meant she needed to find another part-timer, stat!

She sighed as she lumbered up to her apartment on the second floor for the time-being, slouching in exhaustion and dragging her feet as she fished her key out of her purse… only to realize she'd left them in the small bowl next to her door before she had come down.

"Are you kidding me?" she mumbled, double checking anyway. Luckily, her car keys were present and accounted for, along with her wallet, her vanities, and her phone. But no apartment keys. "I swear Lassie, you have the memory of sea slug sometimes," she chastised herself.

Taking a deep breath and looking around carefully, she put her hand to the door knob, a soft purple glow wisping off her hands before she heard the lock click, allowing her entry into her abode. She turned to the small wall table to her immediate left, flipping on the light. Low and behold, her keys were exactly where she had left it. She hung her purse on a nearby coat hanger, stripping off her simple t-shirt in favor of the tank top underneath, knowing full-well she'd have to put on another shirt when she assisted with the late afternoon shift. One sniff told her that laundry day was eminent, and just how badly she needed a nice, warm shower, followed by a minimum of twelve consecutive hours of sleep – not that she'd get any of that.

She was a self-made, twenty-something disaster, with a head-full of frazzled red hair that fell to her shoulder blades when she let it out of her ponytail and splotches of freckles across her cheeks. Her hazy grey, almost the color of polished steel, eyes were perhaps the oddest thing about her. That, and she was half-decent magic-wielder. Magic was in her blood, though uninherited like it was for magicians and the like. It was a part of her, cultivated through years of study and practice of the arcane arts. While she was never fond of the term's "witch" or "occult study" due to their negative popular culture connotations, and "druid" or "wiccan" made her sound like something of a country bumpkin; she preferred the title of an "enchantress" all the same. A progressively growing one at that, but it left a more positive image in her mind.

She smiled tiredly as her eyes trailed to her sleeping partner-in-crime exactly where she had left him; an old Japanese Akita she had rescued by the name Satoshi, though she swore he was more fox than dog sometimes. The snoozing canine was as sly as any thief, and smarter than most humans she reckoned. How the cross-continental breed ended up in the US to begin with was beyond her, but she was glad she had found him; or as she liked to think, they had found each other. Her smile widened when the dog's nose flared up slightly in a sleepy sniff, only to sigh almost exasperatedly when he recognized her scent, as dogs were prone to do.

She looked at him fondly. "Morning sleepy-head?" The dog just groaned as he rolled over bitterly and continued snoring. Clearly he was rubbing in the fact that he got to sleep-in all day.

The apartment itself was sparse, though tastefully decorated. The sofa, occupied by Satoshi, was bought used, as was the table and chairs in the living-dining room space. The kitchen was small, but easily manageable. The majority of the floor space however was heavily, but systematically, taken up by a series of planter pots, the greenery giving the room an earthy, but clean smell. A few of the plants, like the mandrake and belladonna flower, she hung diligently from the ceiling to prevent the dog from getting it in his mind to chew on the poisonous leaves or petals. What space wasn't taken, was occupied by a strange collection of old-world mystic items, from staves to effigies to… well… anything she could get her hands on. She had collected discreetly over the years she had resided in Jump City, even before legally coming of age.

She quietly walked into the kitchen retrieving one of the potted plants from the window sill. Her favorite. An endangered species for the last seven-hundred years. The white petals began to shine as she pulled it out of the sun, the shade giving way to a soft glow. The darker it grew, the brighter it would shine. One of the last true moon lilies in existence, and she had the pleasure of cultivating it until it seeded… whenever that would be.

She set it down in the middle of the table before walking back to the couch, sitting on the far end from Satoshi as she pulled up her laptop from between the couch and the wall. She wasn't going to get any sleep before she went back down for her second shift, so she might as well do something productive. As much as she enjoyed the civilian life, magic didn't make it any easier, especially when she could so easily sway people to her whim but refused to do so on principle. Power came with a whole new set of responsibilities, like making sure that it didn't make it into the hands of irresponsible idiots, and tempted mundane's.

She clicked on her portable computer, immediately greeted by a password screen that faded as she implemented her hidden prompt. The new view was exactly where she had left off: multiple tabs to multiple sites. Amazon. Craigslist. Even, museum sites and private galleries. Online cults and covens claiming access to powerful magick's. Every online prompt her computer's processor could handle, and hopefully all her web searching wouldn't up her personal Wi-Fi's already teetering rates; anything with a potential connection to the supernatural was her target as she scoured the World Wide Web for any sign of artifacts. It helped in some cases that she had made Paper Wings into a coffee and book store underneath her feet. It allowed her some degree of leeway when it came to more literary objects, such as grimoires or tomes. It was her job to be interested after all.

That was the life of Morgan Lassiter, a lone enchantress. No coven, group, or otherwise to keep tabs with, and no one to watch her back. Her days filled with coffee, books, magic, and school. But in all honesty, it made things easier. The best way she knew how to help the natural order of the world, was to remove the items that tempted others with power. As much as she disliked hiding behind a civilian life, she knew it wasn't wise to utilize her abilities unnecessarily. She wasn't a hero. She was just someone who wanted to save the world in her own unique way.

And besides, she had Satoshi to look after. Not like she could get involved in stupid Super's politics without endangering her beloved and fearless canine…. Snore.

She was tiredly scrolling through an online store when the muscles on the back of her hand tensed for half a moment. Frowning, she scrolled back, her hand tensing again as she stared at the object in question. It was a grainy photo, possibly from a someone's phone, but it was clear enough for her to observe the item in question. A large book, its otherwise white cover was held by metal crescent spades along each of its corners and a single banded circle at its center, the strange decor possibly iron or lead. It certainly looked old enough. The pages were slightly yellowed, but the cover was still incredibly preserved for anything older than fifty years at most. Still, she got a sense that it possessed some level of magic or other, and that could have protected it from degrading.

"Looks like I found something, Satoshi," she said absently, slightly more awake than she had been. While she wouldn't claim to be thee Indiana Jones of arcana-archaeology, she knew her way around. "Looks, European? Based on the design, I'd say Early Middle Ages. Ninth century A.D. maybe? But, it's not Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Persian, Byzantine, Frankish, Bulgarian, or… anything really. And it's a hard-back, not something you really saw back then. The cover is too modern for a book of that time-period, but the design is perfect."

She looked over at the Akita, "I still get the "magic" sense about it. What do you think? Someone's attempt at replicating old magic?"

Nothing.

Sighing, she looked at it again, unable to shake the feeling she was getting from it through her laptop screen. She absently clicked on it to see a description.

A low rumble came from across the couch, Satoshi growling in his sleep as she looked over from the details. She raised her eye at him, but shook her head as continue to examine her find.

"Condition appears to be okay," she muttered, looking at the price with a sharp intake of breath. "And five-thousand dollars. A steal if it is actually a ninth century relic, or a really expensive fraud."

She tried to find a name for the seller, only to see "Private" listed on the item. However–

""The Heart of Nol"," she said with interest as she read the labelled book title, though the book itself had no discernible markings that would qualify as a title. She looked down at her tensed hand again, before looking back at the book. It was magic alright.

She quickly opened another tab, checking her bank account quickly before she made the final move. It wouldn't be wise to cripple herself financially; sometimes, the odd relic or two had to be left to slip through the cracks. She wasn't exactly making money off of her hobby-collection. She had enough, but she would have to cut back on her spending for a while. She did like to think she had a higher-than-average sum saved for someone her age, but she always treated herself as broke; a small trick she used to keep from over-spending. In this case however….

"Son of a butterfinger," she growled, taking a hesitant breath as she clicked the purchase button, her account information already prominent on the site.

'Thank you for your purchase. Delivery in a week.' Complete with a box gif sealing and mailing itself.

She shrugged slightly, the damage already done. Now all that was left was brewing coffee, and-

'Bing!' A message pop-up alerted her before she could close her laptop; a message through the site provider. Curiosity abounding, especially after the purchase, she opened it.

'He's a hand-full, sweetie. Take care of him. -MM'

"Okay then," Morgan said with some bafflement, looking at Satoshi as if he had all of the answers. "It's going to be a long week."

A/N: Don't forget to READ and REVIEW! :)

All done with Sequence 2! Whoo-hoo! Where'd Beast Boy fly off to? What does this mean for the Titans? And who was our mysterious OC character?

Once again, this is a Rough Draft, so if there is anything that needs edited, or is connecting in a weird way for you guys, let me know and I'll try to clean up the text. I do accept grammar and spelling errors too. (A Copy 'n Paste, brought to you from the roller chair of SteinMon1920518)

As always (and I'll just keep posting this because its true), keep posting your constructive criticisms, as they will help me know what to look for in my future writings, and for the days I decide to do a hard edit. A writer should never stop growing, and I have no intention of stopping now.

First off, yes, two whole months after the changeling's disappearance.

Second, some happy news here and there. Raven stressed over adopting her kids (an idea I picked up from other stories idea, but I thought about it, and the kids have more purpose in Sequence 3 than I originally thought, and it got me jittery excited. Plus, I always wondered how Robin/Nightwing actually proposed to Starfire, so I gave it a spin. Both sweet and comic (I can't not; recent tragedies require a great deal of comedy)

Third, Cyborg got his ideas to work... a little too well. He might not need that second one after all (and for once, he destroyed the light bulbs. All of them.)

Fourth, Morgan Lassiter, our mysterious coffee shop enchantress with a stack of arcanan, and a book order in the works. I loved developing this character, partially because of her dog (Japanese Akita's are one of my favorites!), partially for the next book, and partially because I enjoy throwing an odd wrench in the works (eheheheheheh!)

Please indulge my curiosity, and let me know what parts you liked, what parts need work, and overall what you guys think about it :D

Until the next story. Upcoming: Sequence 3: Magicks that Bind - Prologue (I really like the sound of the title, so I think I'll keep it)