Figures no one came looking for me.

Either Accelerate and Sentinel abandoned me or they were captured. I'm the one carrying a krypto-pistol for the ticking time bomb. Not many people are capable of apprehending the red haired powerhouse, but those that could are likely stationed out here in packs. As for the speedster, he probably would see him as a liability anyways.

Either way, I'm on my own. Not that it matters where we are. Should've figured I'd end up alone again.

Slumped against the back wall of a San Francisco coffee shop, Eric Abernathy held his breath. He'd reabsorbed his fur and other inhuman features to blend with the urban scenery. The only thing standing between himself and an indecent exposure charge was a wrinkly white T-shirt he kept in his backpack just in case he ever had to change away from his room. But indecent exposure would've been the least of all the charges he could've gotten.

Its the convenient part of being the team's resident Animorph. No one knows my face.

Giving up on the idea that anyone would be coming for him, he filed through his options before standing up and walking to the nearest street. Chopping the air roughly with an open hand he tried to wave down a ride. The handful of cars that did pass by were speeding ridiculously fast by him, understandably spooked by the recent carnage. So instead he took to a different possible solution.

Walking over to a long row of parking meters, he slid down the way until he found a motorcycle and took a seat on it. It was an incredible gem in Eric's sight because it was an abandoned motorcycle with parking tickets issued days ago. Reasoning that the owner was either gone or very likely entirely dead with no chance of ever needing it again, Eric fired it up and shot down the lanes of traffic, intending to bike to Star City.

As he rode down the streets of San Fransisco, the lead case in his backpack began to weigh heavy on his heart. Maybe I should.. lend it to Pistolera for safe keeping..

"What in THE HELL am I thinking?!?"

I probably just need some sleep.

Despite being capable of making a migration from San Fran to Star, the journey would've had more in common with a migration than a practical means of fast travel in a long-term sense. Plus, it felt kinda good to be something else. Human, he felt human with the ground so close to him. With no one around to need something more, he felt something else again. Content.

After the proto-kryptonian gave him the all clear, Rufus followed him into the base, the 'secret' passage seemed awfully convoluted and very not Pistolera's style. Didn't she aim for efficiency? And hadn't thousands of years of human architecture showed doors were in fact, the most effective way of making a entrance to a room? Maybe not - he had heard about the terrible architecture that went hand in hand with being a non-powered superhero. Once they made their way through, the arrived at the door. Camera and steel door - like it was a 90's spy movie and Pistolera was going to turn around in her chair, petting a furry little cat.

The two emerged, and the group were 'pleased' to see them both. They explained the plan - they were going to hell. A phrase Rufus certainly had heard being shouted at him several times before in his life, just never this literal. She said that they couldn't bring Sentinel with Ewan, and instead they wanted Rufus to go.

"It might be a one way trip" Pistolera warned him, as Rufus scoffed. The truth was that Rufus liked to make the others believe that he didn't care. That he could've super sped in front of a bullet without a second thought. But spending eternity in hell, dying at the feet of all those souls that were lost at the monument of their failures? It scared him. It really did.

Looking over at Rhea and Max, whom were both going to go down there with Ewan, his emotionless face broke into a grin. They will never make it without me. Rufus thought. "I'll go, and I'll make sure to bring everyone back." His voice rang out, a glare at Isaac. This was the one shot he and the others had to make up for the mistakes Sentinel - no, they had made. They couldn't screw it up.

He was just about to ask Amazon how one exactly 'goes to hell', when they were interruped by a voice from outside. He was asking about Sandstorm.

Wait. Where the fuck did he go after all? Rufus thought, surprised with himself that he hadn't noticed the lack of one of their members.

I flash the meagrest of half-grins at Accelerate when he agrees to join the JR suicide squad. Though the odds still seem near unbelievably high, and it still looks like my first act as the new boss is gonna be sending half of my team to their untimely demise, but I think their chance of success just went up a notch from certain death to probably certain death. It ain't much, but it's something.

“Well, now that that's all settled we can. . .” I begin, but get quickly interrupted by a voice, crackling down the intercom. My first thought is that we've been made, that we're fucked. My first instinct is to run, to lose the kids, use them as a distraction to make good my escape. Fuck, but my first instincts are utter bastards. I stay settled, mind working over time. Did the newcomer just mention Sandstorm?

What did happen to him? I always assumed that he'd fled the base after our less than stellar night together, too embarrassed to face me the next morning, choosing self-impossed exile over an awkward conversation, just to decide he wasn't coming back after he discovered we murdered half of San Fran. Sure, I was half curious as to what had happened to him, but with everything else that happened since discovering his fate just hadn't been a priority. But by the sounds of it, maybe there was more to his vanishing act than met the eye.

That was dependent on if this newcomer was telling the truth or not. He might be one of Luthor's lackeys, just trying to sly his way in. Thing is, he's already found us, so while I could tell him to bugger off, there's no guarantee he'll leave. And if he does, he might inardventally drag all sorts of other attention on us.

No, one way or another we have to deal with this now.

“I'm gonna let him in, see what he wants. If he tries anything kinky I want you to smash him into paste.” I say to Sentinel. No matter how dangerous this guy is, I don't reckon he could take our resident powerhouse.

I buzz the door open, waiting for the newcomer to come in before I continue.

“Talk, talk fast, and be convincing. I've got an itchy trigger finger at the best of times, and this is a damn sight from the best of times.” I gesture to Kid Krypton to stand behind the newcomer, blocking his only escape. Whatever this newcomer is planning, he's made his bed now.

I’ll be honest with you. When the door opened, I did not expect what I saw. I don’t know why, but I was sure it would open to reveal a pimply teen dressed in poorly made tights, like a nerd right outta Comic Con. I realise now that that’s an absolutely stupid thing to think, especially considering that these guys were next in line to become Justice Leaguers, but still. I was not expecting a uber-hot punk girl with guns to show up and make me sputter and die, much like that shitty car my parents bought me for my sixteenth birthday. Looking back on it, I can’t help but think, “What would Gabe have done?”

I’ll tell you what. He would’ve looked her up and down, stared her in the eyes, and threatened getting shot by saying, “Sorry. You’re not my type.” But goddamnit, I’m not Gabe, and I sure as hell don’t have a type.

So after she not-so subtly threatened to put a bullet in my brain, all I managed to say was, “Uh… hi.”

Fucking hormones.

Realising that that probably didn’t ensure my survival, I decided to rephrase, removing my helmet to reveal my amazing jawline, breathing deep. “Luke is my friend,” I explained, “I met him back when he was still in Gotham, going solo as Sandstorm. I was on holiday (it didn’t feel like one, though. Who the hell goes to Gotham for a holiday?), but we met as vigilantes, and teamed up for the two weeks I was there. We kept in touch afterwards. Every second day we’d send our statuses to each other. But I didn’t get a message yesterday. Or the two days beforehand. He’s gone missing. Something’s up. And with all this stuff going on with the VRA and San Fran, I don't think he's in hiding. Not by choice, anyway. It's not like him. Something's up."

I paused, tracked my eyes along the girl's figure, caught myself, thought, Damn you, hot people, and pressed on. "I can tell you're in the middle of something, so, uh, sorry to interrupt. But I need your help. You guys are the only chance I've got to find Sandy. Will you help me? Or shoot me?"

I tried not to show it, but I hoped to fucking Superman that they'd do the first.

The rest of the team hadn't heard from Eric yet. Isaac frowned, although somewhere in that screwed up head of his he knew that Pistolera wouldn't know anything. If Accelerate and Sentinel hadn't found him, and he hadn't called Pistolera, then where was Microbat? Was he dead? Captured? Or maybe Eric was hiding out somewhere, waiting for the right opportunity to meet them in Star City. Whatever the case, Sentinel couldn't worry about him now. There were more important things to deal with than a missing teammate, Rao forgive him. All Isaac could do is hope and pray that his friend was alright.

Sentinel's thoughts were averted from Eric as Cell wandered towards him. Rhea looked calm. She looked at peace. Isaac couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of her. How could she hold herself together so well? Why was it that Sentinel seemed like the only person on the planet who couldn't control himself? Her conscious was clear, despite it all. She'd killed as well. Innocents had fallen beneath her blade; mind you, not nearly as many as had collapsed beneath the Kryptonian's might, but that didn't change the fact that they were both murderers. The size and scope of the genocide Sentinel had committed never let itself leave the forefront of Isaac's thoughts. Even as his closest confidant approached him, a look of warm understanding in her eyes, Isaac still felt like the entire world rested upon his shoulders. Death. So much death. And all of it was his own fault. No one else could claim responsibility for the San Francisco Massacre but Isaac himself. No other individual on the team could weigh their sins against Sentinel's and not realize how much guilt truly belonged to the kid from Krypton. Sentinel's powers allowed him to see things that others couldn't see. For instance, facial expressions. There were certain movements people's faces made when they were feeling certain emotions. These expressions were hard to read without training because they moved on too fast for any normal person to examine thoroughly. But Sentinel could see. He could see what Cell started to feel when she looked into his self-stigmatized eyes.

He could see her horror. Her rage. Her guilt. The look in her eye that spoke more clearly than any voice could: It's all your fault. All those emotions disappeared within a moment. The resentment and loathing that had been present before they looked at one another was replaced by a genuine smile. But was it really genuine? Was Rhea just putting up a show, to keep Sentinel from boiling over again and killing the rest of them? It was hard to tell. Her biology did not betray her: Cell appeared to be truly glad that he had returned. His scrutiny turned up no lies. No sign of betrayal. Then why, Isaac wondered, was he so convinced she didn't care? A single flick to Isaac's forehead knocked Sentinel back into the present. He couldn't let himself delve too deep into his own psyche. Not right now. Every time Isaac started to think too deeply about everything that was going on, he would become ashamed and paranoid and angry all at the same time. No time for that, Krypton. Isaac told himself. You've work to do.

A smile crossed Sentinel's face. He couldn't help it. All the distrust in the world couldn't keep him from his genuine affection for the girl. What that affection was, Isaac couldn't tell. But he knew it was there. Whatever he felt for the girl, it was good. Righteous. True and just. The anchor of his sanity. It was in that moment that Sentinel realized that all of his humanity remained in that single, fragile feeling he felt for this girl. Rao, why is everything good and pure have to be so easily broken? "Thanks. I hope you didn't have too much fun without me." Isaac replied to Rhea's greeting. The warmth of her hand caused Isaac to feel at peace. There was a certain amount of hope that allowed itself to drip back into his heart again. There stood a lone, vigilante lighthouse against the tidal wave of chaos within Isaac's heart. A sentinel of truth that Isaac had something to live for. Isaac nodded. He had tried. He'd tried damn hard, and he was afraid all that brought them was more suffering. He didn't know what to say. Isaac had wanted to give up. He had wanted to give up so many times. But that voice inside his head kept telling him: "Keep going, Sentinel. You're not done yet." So he kept moving. One step at a time. Isaac had a duty to his fellow Titans, and to the people of San Francisco. He would redeem their souls. No matter the personal cost.

Sentinel stood beside Rhea as Simone went over the plan. It seemed foolish and hair-brained, but considering the current state of affairs it was their only option. The team was going to Hell. Cell, Accelerate, Stunt-Devil, and Amazon had all been chosen for the assignment. The rest of the team would stay and conduct operations of their own while they waited for everyone else to save the day. Pistolera had explained to Isaac why he couldn't go. Suffice to say, he was angry. He understood, but he was angry. He needed to be there- to protect her- them! His teammates couldn't do this on their own. They'd all die, no doubt about it. Rhea turned towards Isaac, and took his hand into hers. So soft. So fragile. And she was going to Hades instead of him. "'till we be meetin' again." She said. Isaac looked at her longingly. He shouldn't let her go. He should demand to take her place. But in his heart, Sentinel knew that was impossible and moronic and selfish of him. "Come back in one piece, please. I couldn't bear it if you- if you didn't make it back." Isaac whispered. This might be the last chance to talk to her. To tell her the truth. He'd never thought he would tell anyone in a million years who he was. But there was that voice again: Tell her, Isaac. Tell her your name. You might never get another chance. "I'm Isaac, by the way. Isaac Grant. That's my real name. Goodbye, Rhea. I'll see you again. One way or another."

Sentinel turned back to the rest of the team as Accelerate decided to join Evan's team on their mission. He could feel a bit of comfort in knowing that the speedster was there to protect Cell. Isaac might not like the bastard much, but he was a dependable bastard. Sentinel watched as Rufus turned his head and glared at him. The way he emphasized everyone ticked Isaac off a bit. Was he blaming Sentinel for the deaths of the others again? Or maybe the killings in San Fran? Or, perhaps, he meant to tell Isaac that he would keep Rhea safe. That last one didn't fit with Rufus' M.O. The speedster didn't give a care about anyone else. He would only bring everyone back to save his own pride.

A voice over the intercom interrupts Pistolera's explanation. The identity behind the voice was unknown. This seemed to put everyone, especially Simone, on edge. He mentioned Sandstorm. Where had Luke gone? He'd disappeared the night before the attack. During all the chaos, Isaac just assumed he had escaped like Ravager and hadn't bothered coming back. Or maybe he was dead like the twins. There was no way to be sure. Isaac only hoped the guy was okay. Simone looked to Sentinel, and explained how things were going to go down. She wanted Isaac to be on high alert. Okay, Sentinel thought. I can do that. He nodded his understanding before Simone allowed Hellfire to enter. When the unknown uniformed figure entered, Simone made clear that whoever this was had only moments to talk before he died a painful and swiss-cheese like death.

A rush of air knocked clothes and hair about as Sentinel appeared behind Hellfire. Isaac crossed his arms and squinted, watching the man's every movement. Looking for any sign of hostile intent. The man began to speak. He explained his connection to Luke and his reasoning for looking for Sandstorm. Apparently the two kept in frequent contact; contact that had ceased within recent times. Sentinel listened to the beating of Hellfire's heart. He wasn't lying, that much was apparent. But he did seem nervous. And the way his eyes moved...Was he..Checking Simone out? Isaac raised an eyebrow at that one. Certainly, Simone was well-built and good looking. But hormones generally took a backseat when someone threatens to murder you.

"He's telling the truth." Sentinel said after a beat. "And he's piss-himself scared." Isaac half-smiled.

Ah, Sentinel. The Kid Krypto. The Teen of Steel. The Junior of Tomorrow. Superboy. I’ll be honest with you, the first time I heard him speak, I didn’t like him very much. Guy used his powers to read my vitals, and came to the conclusion that I was scared. Scared? I wasn’t scared. Nervous, sure. But scared? The hell was he talking about?

I wasn’t afraid of a bullet. I was afraid of what I’d do if one came at me.

Also, he pissed me off because I thought that gun-chick would think I was a wuss.

“Hey, come on, man,” I said, addressing him, “Don’t ruin my chances.” I thought of sneaking Pistolwhip a wink, but thought better of it. No thank you, bullets. Stay in your magazines.

Soon after he had stepped down from leadership the speedster and the Kryptonian show up. They weren't with Man-Bat Jr. That meant they were missing two team members now. That's great. He had realized that Sandstorm was gone after the zombie situation settled down. He tried to look for his body among the murdered, but couldn't find him. He just figured that he escaped without telling the others. The newly elected leader of the team immediately told Accelerator that she was thinking of sending him with the team to Hell with Amazon, Rhea, and Max. JC personally still believed that it wasn't the best team for the mission, but he decided not to argue it any further. It wasn't his decision anymore. It never really was.

Then came the knock. He immediately became more alert. How were they able to find them already? The communicators. Dammit. He knew they should've destroyed them. Or maybe that wasn't it. Either way this safe house wasn't as safe as everyone had thought. That thought amused him a little bit. Anything to make Simone look bad. No, shut up. That's not you. That's not the type of guy you are. You're not the petty type. He shook the thought from his head and got ready to fight, but then it dawned on him. Their enemy wouldn't knock. Luthor or his lackeys would have used this moment to catch them off guard and kill them instead of knocking.

JC relaxed a bit and even moreso when the voice mentioned Sandstorm and that he was a friend looking for him. Pistolera decided to check and see what he wanted, but not before telling Kid Krypto to turn him into paste if he tried anything funny. He could have sworn that was the thing that we didn't want him to do. He could be wrong, but he was quite sure that he wasn't.

JC decided not to say anything on the matter. He had just guessed that Sandstorm had escaped and left them to fend for themselves, but now it seemed that he might be in trouble. He sat on the couch and waited for them to figure out whatever they were going to do. He started to guess that they just found the home team's mission. So much for keeping a low profile.

Isaac Grant. Rhea smiled as she said his name in her mind. One of these days, if she ever comes back from Hell, she might have to ask Isaac if ever he had mind-reading abilities; coincidentally, she'd been wanting to know his real name just quite recently. She couldn't help but chuckle at how ridiculously good it felt to know and say the teen's name; it was as if she knew his secret identity. Still, the mere fact that he whispered it to her instead of blurting it out in the open would mean that he wasn't ready to reveal who he really is just yet. There was really a difference in calling someone by their name. If you merely call out using their aliases or pseudonyms, you just address their surface, their masks. But, to call them using their name is to invoke their very being, their very soul. At least, that's what Rhea believed. Hence, she only called those close to her by their names; others are called by some other fitting nickname that she could remember easily. However, as much as Teapot 2.0's pheromones were daring her to look at the demigod, there was a new sensation that overrode whatever logic or sanity Rhea had left. She couldn't stifle her spine from tingling beautifully when Isaac whispered in her ear; his voice huskier than normal. But, the main catalyst for the healer to be flustered would probably be attributed to the way he revealed his secret as well as the moment he opened up, just for a fleeting moment, his weakness to her. None of his words went unnoticed, unfortunately, causing Rhea to turn a darker shade of red as time ticked on and on.

Furthermore, as much as she wanted to tell the lad that she would want, that she would try her best to return... she didn't say it. After all, Isaac mattered too much to be led on by something that Rhea couldn't even assure herself of. Instead, she reached into the pockets of her robe, pulling out a patch of cloth that was neatly sewn and fixed. It was a wee bit crumpled, but for her, it mattered not. On that cloth was a large 'S' in the centre, the colours flourishing brighter than usual. However, at the back of the cloth, just along the edges, was a cross-stitched lettering of her alias: Cell. It seemed to say that... she's always got his back; even the Boy of Steel needed someone to watch his back for him. How Rhea found time to repair such a torn cloth that flew at her face was beyond even her, but she was sure glad that she completed it. She nimbly placed the cloth in his hands, closing his fist around it. "Ne'vr be forgettin' who you are, Isaac." An awkward grin threatening to tear at her mouth as she whispered his name as if it was something sacred-- which, technically, it was.

There had to be a reason for such an expression, right? It was bad, really bad to be feel this happy due to giving a simple gift. Still, as she prevented herself from getting too happy and giddy from such a simple occurrence, a voice resonated from outside the hideout. What unnerved the healer was the fact that it was an unfamiliar one and, for another, how in the seven hells did this person know where they were?! Instantly, her eyes bolted to the entryway, half-expecting a wave of policemen to burst in, guns loaded, and begin pumping their guts with lead. Well, in hindsight, everyone would be able to take them out, no problem. Heck, Isaac could take them all whilst she lounged and sipped Earl Grey Tea. Thus, she made no hostile movements, choosing to sit this one out whilst the Teen Titans sort it out. As Smokey allowed the guy in, and Isaac taking his place behind the intruder, ready to melt his bones, Rhea observed the person. It seemed that he was a friend of Sandy. Speaking of that Litter-box, where had he gone? Rhea hadn't seen him inside the tower during the zombie attack-- alive or dead. But, now, he was missing, apparently.

It all seemed too sketchy, too convenient. For all they knew, Luthor would have already hired this person to infiltrate their ranks. Well, it wasn't much of Rhea's problem since she was going, literally, to Hell anyway. If he was a turncoat, it'd be a problem for Smokey and the others. Probably, Isaac could take him on, but... well, what if there were a myriad of outcomes to this?

Rhea immediately slapped her palms against her cheeks. What the hell had happened to her? She never doubted, she always trusted. This was not the time for doubts and fears. Rhea opted to leave that anxiety to the others, but never for her. She cared about life too much to be able to doubt one. As the boy began to speak, asking for their assistance, the healer deigned a glance at Smokey, their leader. Then, she eyed the guest once more, trying to scrutinize his existence. After a few minutes, Rhea breathed heavily, a small smile forming on her lips. "Smokey, I know dat it ain't be my place to be sayin' dis, but..." she began. "...perhaps it be good fer ye guys to assist dis lad 'ere." the healer eyed her fellow female. "We be too few a'ready. If it be true dat Litter-Box be really missin', then, it might be a good idea to be findin' 'im. He," Rhea gestured to the lad. "...can be helpin' ye as well. I be thinkin' dat ye could be usin' wha'ever hand, tentacle, or suit ye can be findin'."

Rhea bit her lip in frustration as she struggled to find the right words to say. Her eyes settled down on Isaac as if he was her answer. Friend. Ally. Comrade. Someone important. At that moment, Rhea realized that the idea that is driving this lad is the hope of finding his friend once more. The current titans weren't the best of friends, but they were friends nonetheless (for Rhea, at least). They were all gears in a one big clock; if they lose more of the necessary parts, the whole clock suffers. This was evident when Lock n' Load kicked the bucket. If anything, Rhea wanted this questing lad to never experience the pain of losing someone that they held dear; without that treasured person, it was never going to be the same. "After all, Litter-Box be our comrade, aight? We dun be leavin' anyone behind, not any more. Wid his help, ye could also be findin' Batty as well." Rhea shifted her eyes once more on their banner of hope, clearing her throat. "We can't be losin' any more titans dan da ones dat we've already lost... than da ones dat we're gonna be losin' soon."

“Uh… hi.” Our uninvited guest muttered. Fantastic. Just what my day needed, another brain dead idiot. At least Sentinel does what he's told, zipping behind Hellfire, then just looming like a big, angry, statue, exuding the kind of threat that only a suspicious God can.

I'm cocking my gun, already wondering who best to order to dispose of the body when the soon-to-be-deceased-intruder finds his tongue. Unfortunately most of what he says is information I already know, and the stuff I don't know he has no way of proving, not without having Luke here to confirm it. Therein lies our 'guests' problem, so it looks like I'm still gonna have to shoot him. He just isn't giving me enough to trust him. (Even if he does show enough good taste to start checking me out half way through his story.)

"He's telling the truth. And he's piss-himself scared." Grunted Sentinel. I'm about to ask how the hell knows, until I remember he's got super-senses. He probably functions like human lie detector 24-7, a thought as horrifying as it is kinda awesome. He must have a God damn field day with the amount of porkers I tell the team. Regardless, it's enough to stay my hand.

For now.

“Don't get too mad at the big guy. He just saved you're life!” I call to the newcomer. I holster my pistol, but nod slightly at Sentinel. It isn't much, but I reckon he'll get my meaning. Stay on guard.

Cell speaks up then, her usual brand of home spun colloquialisms that encourage teamwork, and sharing, and the magic of friendship. Dammit, but I must be spending to much time with her, because it's starting to sound like wisdom. I try and summon the bile to be the suspicious bitch I know I am at heart, but it just ain't happening. Maybe I just want to trust someone for a change? I flash Cell a tight smile, something that says 'alright, I'll try it your way'.

“Ok, team, you heard it here first. Sandstorm is missing, and that's a turn of events I can't abide. I dunno if he got ate by zombies, captured by Luther, or just plain fucked off, but I aim to find out.” Not that I have too big a soft spot for Sandy. Not really. Our night together didn't even get all that romantic, not after his 'sexual revelations', but I feel a responsibility to him none the less. That, and I was the last person to see him. That surely means I have some obligation to find him. On top of that this is just what I was looking for. A mission to keep 'B' team busy while 'A' team does their Hell-run. It might only be a simple search and potential rescue mission, but with this team it's apt to get loud. Loud enough to attract Luther's attention.

“Last place Sandy was seen was the Titan's tower. We'll wait for the heat to die down some, then go investigate the scene. Even if they post an army of guards their waiting for us to return, I'm sure we can get in quick and quiet, like wee little church mice.” I subject Sentinel to another pointed look. Quick, he's good at. Quiet not so much. “There, we'll pick up a trail. Maybe even find Microbat while we're at it.”

“Hellfire will come with us. But make no mistake chuckles, you ain't a Titan, and I ain't sure I trust you. Any funny stuff and I'll riddle you so full of holes that you're parents could bury you in a match box. Savvy?” I don't wait for a response. It wasn't really a question.

“While we're at that Evan will be in Tartarus, fixing everything. And, seeing as there's nothing else to talk about, I think it's time you kids went to hell.”

I didn’t realise my fists were clenched until Pistolwhip holstered her gun. Call me a coward, but I was relieved to see I wouldn’t need my flame. As great as it is, I’d rather not have started a firefight (Ha-ha, get it?) with the Teen Titans, of all people. I needed their help. I’m not entirely sure, but I think that singeing their eyebrows wouldn’t have gotten me very far.

Pistolwhip nodded at Sentinel, subtle, meant only for him. But if there’s anything Gabe did well, it was train me, and god damn it, he trained me well. So, like, I noticed it. She didn’t trust me, and she wanted Krypto the Super Ginger to stay on guard. Which was fair enough, given the fact that I literally infiltrated her hideout without ever having made her acquaintance. To be fair, though, I did knock. Sort of.

And then there was Cell. Rhea. I like her. I almost never understand what she says, but I can almost always be sure that it’s some sentimental mumbo-jumbo, and I think it’s incredibly cute that someone can remain so optimistic, all the time. She finished talking, saying something about how ‘dey can’t be losin’ any more Titans dan da ones dat dey’d already lost’, and I flashed her a smile and said, “I like you.”

Pistolwhip got to laying out her plan, and I have to say, the impression she gave me was a good one. She had the stuff of a great leader. I don’t think she knew it then, or if she even wanted to acknowledge it, but she did. And she was hot. And a badass. Needless to say, she had a lot going for her.

(Gabe just read that over my shoulder. He hit me. My head hurts.)

“Make no mistake chuckles, you ain't a Titan, and I ain't sure I trust you. Any funny stuff and I'll riddle you so full of holes that your parents could bury you in a match box. Savvy?”

I grinned. So hot.

(Ow.)

“While we're at that Evan will be in Tartarus, fixing everything. And, seeing as there's nothing else to talk about, I think it's time you kids went to hell.”

“Wait, what?”

(My head really hurts.)