Bounce

Titans: A DC Comics Roleplay

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_{Location: New York City, New York -- Brooklyn Visions Academy}

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Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The over-the-ear headphones hugged the sides of his head. A messy, mop of dark hair framing the boy’s face. A few freckles dotted his cheeks, which were starting to take on more adult-like features. He was clearly starting to grow out of childhood. A gangly form in a junior high school uniform. The blazer hung open, enveloping his small frame. The collar of the white shirt was loose, the top button undone as the tie dangled loosely around his neck.

(Let’s dance.) Put on your red shoes and dance the blues.

A pair of Vans schlepped through the hallways. Through the Beats headphones, the musical stylings of Britain’s David Bowie radiated from inside the boy’s head.

He should have been an ordinary kid at an ordinary school.

Unfortunately, ordinary was a word that described what other people were and Garfield was not.

(Let’s dance.) To the song they’re playing on the radio.

Eyes tracked him through the halls. People stared. Some openly, others tried to hide behind their text books or side-eye him from whispered conversations that echoed in the halls.

Lots of super heroes had secret lives. Lots of sidekicks never got the spotlight. And Garfield? Garfield was green. Literally. And, if that wasn’t enough, his bright yellow eyes and pointed ears added a distinctiveness that ensured no one would ever mistake him for anything else than something out of the ordinary.

(Let’s sway.) While color lights up your face.

He tried to lean into it. He was @BeastBoy across social media, so of course people would recognize him in real life. The nonchalant attitude seemed to play it off. Garfield would pretend to be oblivious to the attention, hiding behind a pair of noise cancelling headphones and trying to shut out the look of shock on their faces, the slack-jawed glances and conspiratorial whispers that transformed any sidewalk, hallway, or classroom from an open space to a prison in which he was the center of attention.

(Let’s sway.) Sway through the crowd to an empty space!

Some wanted him to perform. Some thought he was the proof that demons must exist. Some wanted to fight him and others wanted his autograph. So it was with a big sigh of relief that Garfield arrived at his desk for the next class.

Dropping his back by the desk, the boy pulled back the chair and prepared to take his seat. As he did, a loud CLAP rolled like thunder. The windows rattled. Garfield felt something that was like the bass at a rock concert, but only for a moment.

A plethora of panicked squeals and screams sprang forth, as the other students all tried to process what had just happened.

Oh, if you say run, I’ll run to...

Reaching up a hand, the green haired boy pulled the headphones from off his head. “Uh, Miss Thatcher?” Garfield uttered, raising his hand as he called to the teacher at the front of the class. Amber eyes darted for the windows. Smoke was rising into view.

That was an explosion.

“Can I , uh, use the bathroom?”

Okay, so it wasn’t the smoothest of excuses. Feet sliding across the floor, Garfield shot out into the hallway, before sprinting for his locker. His old Doom Patrol uniform was stuffed into his gym bag just in case he accidentally shapeshifted himself into a clothing malfunction.

It was a couple of minutes more before the mop-head hero was bursting from out of the front doors of the private school. Clad in the distinctive red and white uniform, the boy’s form seemed to launch upward as his form blurred. He took one step, humanoid shape imploding as the form of a falcon emerged in its place.

The green raptor spread its wings, beating several times as the falcon rose rapidly up into the air. Planing out, the bird spread its wings as an updraft seemed to take hold. Circling slowly, the school grounds fell away, as the boy was given a bird’s eye view of New York City below.

There were some ugly dudes. A lot of ugly dudes as a matter of fact. A girl with flaming hair. A Superman fan. And… a black dude?

Hypothesis: Assume the humans are the good guys.

Folding his wings in, the falcon plunged down toward the Earth. Swooping over the street, the bird’s form blurred as its seemed to explode outward -- becoming a rhinoceros that thundered down the street. A pair of brutes were launched into the air, as the rhino came barreling through.

Several laser-like shots rained his direction. The rhinoceros shrank into a rusty spotted cat, then a kangaroo as he launched himself at one of the assailants. As the brutish figure went flying back through the air, the kangaroo became a mosquito.

Zipping over and around where the black hero was looking like a total bro, the mosquito expanded out into a hybrid simian form. A prehensile tail flicked behind him, as the distinctive monkey boy form of the Doom Patrol’s Beast Boy appeared.

“Sup, brah?” the kid quipped, tossing a smile over toward Aqualad.

Titans: A DC Comics Roleplay

_{can't stop, won't stop}

Character Name

Garfield Mark Logan
Beast Boy

Age

13

Attributes & Abilities

In simplest terms, Beast Boy is a shapeshifter. He can adopt the form of any animal that he has either seen or is capable of visualizing (such as dinosaurs). Beast Boy's powers defy the law of conservation of mass, allowing him to transform from average human height and weight to that of a blue whale or an amoeba without difficulty. When transformed, he has all physical properties of that form. Thus, when a blue whale, Garfield's weight (displacement) is on a scale of 173 metric tonnes; however, when transformed to a hummingbird, he weighs mere ounces (a fraction of a pound). Garfield can go from one extreme to the next, changing forms consecutively without suffering any ill effects from the apparent expansion or compression of his mass. While in animal form, Beast Boy loses the ability to speak but retains his full mental faculties as well as all physical or physiological characteristics of that creature. As such, he can fly swiftly as a peregrine falcon, endure oceanic pressures as a whale, or go full Hulk smash as a full-sized gorilla.

Outside of his altered physiology, Garfield demonstrates a knack for languages. He speaks three languages fluently (English, Portuguese, and French), in addition to having some conversational familiarity with Arabic, Urdu, Swahili, and Lingana. Though an American citizen, his life abroad has resulted in his speaking English with a noticeable accent.

Finally, Garfield wears a suit composed of a matrix of unstable molecules. Devised for him by Mento and constructed by the Doom Patrol, the suit alters shape and mass in response to changess in Garfield's physical form. This most commonly takes the form of a collar around the next of his animal forms. This enables Garfield to maintain his modesty even while transforming between human and animal forms.

Character Synopsis

The son of paleontologist Mark Logan and biologist Marie Logan, "Gar" grew up in all corners of the world. After the death of his father in a boating accident, Marie Logan moved the family to a permanent home operating a wildlife sanctuary in the Republic of Qurac. At the age of eight, Gar contracted the Sakutia virus. Due to the isolation of the wildlife sanctuary and the rapid deterioration of Gar's condition, his mother was forced to treat him using an experimental vaccine developed for treating the virus in West African green monkeys. Though Gar made a full recovery from the illness, his body reacted to the vaccine.

In light of the aggressive, sometimes violent reactions, Marie Logan moved Gar to a pediatrics hospital in the United States. Tests revealed that Gar's genetic structure had undergone a mutation of unstable molecules within the rNA of his cells, thus allowing him to alter his shape and form. In particular, Gar was successful in changing shape and form into animals with which he was familiar. When treatments were unsuccessful in reversing the metabolic changes, Marie Logan again returned to her work in animal conversation with Gar in tow. As a result, Gar's nomadic childhood has been spent across the world; primarily Bialya, Brazil, and the Congo.

It was while operating an animal sanctuary Bialya, Marie Logan and Garfield were caught in the cross-fire between the outbreak of hostilities between Bialya and its neighboring country, Qurac. Though Garfield was rescued by the timely intervention of the superhero team known as Doom Patrol, he lost his mother in the attack. For a time, Garfield found a surrogate family in the Doom Patrol, though Mento's harsh treatment toward him eventually alienated Garfield from them. Returned to the United States in order to resume his education, Garfield has, on occasion, struck out on his own as the hero that social media knows as Beast Boy.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{[ Prev ] “FEAT OF CLAY, Part XI” [ Next ]}

B L Ü D H A V E N

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^{BLÜDHAVEN MUNICIPAL BUS TERMINAL}

The chair rocked back on its casters, tipping over onto the floor as Dick found himself on his feet.

HIs hands slammed down against the console. His face was mere inches from the monitor, staring at the scan-line visual of a man who’d thought dead for the better part of the last twenty years.

Clayface.

“That’s Hagan,” Dick uttered tersely. His hands flexed instinctively, as if eager to put his arm through the screen. Toyboy was still very much an experiment. And now the Toy Wonder was faced off against one of Nightwing’s most challenging opponents.

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

The sound of the man’s voice sent chills racing along Dick’s spine, recognition slamming into him even as the massive figure began advancing upon where the doll was positioned between Clayface and the strange girl.

Across one side of the screen, Dick saw Toyboy’s computer brain start to process the information. Evaluating the known data sets for Hagan and extrapolating different contingencies. First, second, and third order effects of various courses of action.

TARGET ID: HAGAN, MATTHEW
VOICE RECOGNITION: 92.7 PERCENT
THREAT ASSESSMENT: HIGH

“You were supposed to come right back!”

The robot was just standing there. Processing. Calculating. Analyzing. The shadow of the large figure passed over the boy. An arm extended forth, reaching for the girl as if the boy was not even there.

The sharp intake of breath snapped the doll into action.

Even before Annie screamed, the robot’s arm snapped up. Grabbing Hagan by the wrist, the outstretched fingers were just short of the girl’s face. “She doesn’t want to go with you,” the boy stated flatly.

“I’m her father, punk,” Hagan snapped.

“Say what now?”

Even as Dick’s voice registered in the doll’s head, the boy was lift off his feet as Hagan reared his arm back.

Then flung away as Hagan pitch forward. “Stay out of it!” the man barked, flinging the boy through the air with an inhuman strength.

Gyroscopic sensors kicked in. In midair, the doll adjusted his body alignment. Re-orienting, the robot flipped around. His feet planted against the side of a wall and pushed off.

Hagan’s hand again reached for the girl’s head. Annie seemed frozen in fear.

Jason connected with Hagan’s left side. Shoulder down, the boy slammed into the man with sufficient force to send ripples through Hagan’s form. The two fell away from the point of impact, with Hagan lifted off his feet and coming down hard on the ground.

Jason rolled back along the ground, the black and gold cape fluttering as he popped back up to his feet. Adopting a generic martial arts t-stance, the boy dropped his center of gravity and assumed a ready stance as he replied, “I don’t think so.”

The man’s form rippled like water, the flesh and clothes replaces by reddish brown mud as he staggered back to his feet. The left side of his body had an indentation of Toyboy’s silhouette, which disappeared as his body reformed into the monstrous figure of Clayface.

A large backhand swiped at the costumed Toy Wonder. “I said, outta my way!”

Reaching a hand to his utility belt, Toyboy dropped low and then sprang forward with a straight arm jab. The black gloved hand sank into Clayface’s body, vanishing into the muck up to the elbow.

Looking down at the small Robin, the monstrous figure just seemed to issue forth a hollow laugh and sadistic smile. A large hand flowed around the doll’s neck, lifting him up into the air.

The doll was giving him a self-satisfied smirk.

Confused, Hagan looked down as a flash of red light caught his eye. There was part of a batarang jutting out of his midsection.

An explosion a moment later tore the man apart, sending parts of Clayface splattering around them.

Jason landed back on his feet. Already, the larger puddles of mud were starting to pull back toward one another. A hand emerging forth as the pools started to reform the monster. Pausing to look back at Annie, the boy said only, “Stay here!”

Then, turning back toward where Hagan’s golem-like form was beginning to reappear, the boy sprinted forward. He collided with the clay figure in a classic take-down tackle, propelling the two of them off the side of the second level terminal platform.

Somersaulting away, the boy made a three-point landing just a few feet from where Hagan became a wet stain on the floor of the main terminal entrance. The black cape furled about the doll’s slight form, as another explosive batarang was unfolded in hand.

His thumb was on the detonator.

With a beastial roar, Hagan burst from out of the puddle on the floor. Rising nine feet over the small robot, the monster loomed large. “Like to play rough, kid?” Clayface’s voice growled, echoing off the walls of the busy terminal. Hagan’s fists were transformed into large, spiked balls, as the man barked, “All right, let’s play rough!”

The spry, small figure rolled left to avoid a downward swing. Hagan’s wrecking ball fist shattered the floor tiles and left an impression on the foundation. Hagan tried to made a swing with his left hand, but the doll had already closed the gap. Springing from off the floor, the Toy Wonder literally put his fist through Hagan’s face -- as the force of Jason’s uppercut split apart Hagan’s form from sternum to scalp.

Bracing one foot against Clayface’s shoulder, the Toy Wonder nimbly vaulted away. Twisting in mid-air, the explosive batarang was unleashed in a hook shot right before one of Clayface’s arms connected with the the boy in the air.

Pulling his form to one side, Hagan avoided the batarang. Laughing, the Clayface slammed the child-like robot down against the floor. Then, reeling the boy in, looked the toy in the eye as he uttered, “You missed.”

A bubbly laugh tricked from out of the doll. Eyes alight with hellfire, the impish figure flashed a devil-may-care smirk and asked, “You sure about that?”

Confused, Hagan’s head twisted around. Behind him, the batarang stuck into the middle of the wall.

Next to one of the fire alarms.

The muffled explosion a second later sent a trigger through the entire facility. Overhead, fire suppression sprinklers kicked in, dumping gallons of water inside the terminal.

“NO!” Clayface roared, terror gripping his face as the water started to thin out the mud composing his body. Toyboy was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor, as Hagan bolted for the exit. The doors to the terminal were thrown off their hinges, as Clayface erupted from out of the bus station and onto the city street.

As Jason sprinted after, the large creature vanished. Liquified and plunged into one of the storm drains recessed in the crook where the sidewalk met the street.

Back at Dick’s apartment, the man heard the boy’s voice ask, “Think we foiled that jewel heist at least?”

“A better question might be, what’s his interest in that girl?” Dick’s voice replied, inside of Jason’s head.

“The girl...” Jason echoed, the cape whipping around as the boy turned back toward the bus terminal. Police sirens were close. The flashing lights could already be seen. Regardless, the boy turned and ran back inside. A grappling line sailed out to the upper levels, as the boy swung back to where he’d left Annie.

There was no sign of her now.

“Figures,” the boy uttered dryly.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

@Master Bruce

I have to object to the use of a deceased Jason Todd as Robin II. I'm currently writing the Absolute version of Jason Todd as Toyboy's alter ego for Robin II, as clearly detailed in the sheet for Dick and Toyboy. Jason Todd is not mentioned in Wraith's sheet and it was never been established in the IC that there was any Robin after Dick Grayson, and to do so now and decide that it's Jason Todd after a version of Jason has been introduced into the IC is a problem for me.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

I demand a Green Hornet post that plays homage to the coffee porn scene from the movie. Minimum 1,200 words detailing the making of a single cup of barista quality coffee, either in a single post (wall of text style) or a series of posts. The Espresso Arc.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{[ Prev ] “PASSING THROUGH GETHSEMANE, Part IV” [ Next ]}

G O R A N G K A A

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^{Kymellian Agricultural Colony | The Milky Way Galaxy}

A pair of gangly legs jutted from out of the ceiling.

The young Kymellian was contorted inside of a maintenance shaft, grease-marked and stained, as his large, three-fingered hands manipulated the variety of crystalline components that were arrayed about. The repairs to the smartship continued at a snail’s pace, though the addition of one more to the task had at least allowed the work to progress better than had Alora continued on her own.

Besides, Kofi’s leadership had nearly cost them the planet. As it happened, it had cost the Majesdanian Light Brigade dearly for the ships that had been lost in the haphazard defense of the Kymellian colony. So, he sent G’Kar to deal with the Council. He need not be there in person for Lord Aelfyre’s commands to be brought back to him or carried out.

Add to which, the manual labor helped to take the boy’s mind off of how dire the situation had become.

“Lord Whitemane.”

The Okaaran’s voice filtered up from the deck plates. Billy Batson might have just jumped down from the overhead. The Kymellian, by contrast, just shimmered out of existence -- only to appear standing beside the massive Warlord a moment later.

“What progress?” G’Kar asked. As direct as ever.

“Alora believes that the jump drive will be operational again momentarily. Communications appear to be functional. The diagnostics check out, but I can’t seem to get a signal to Billy,” the boy noted aloud, summarizing the progress of the last several hours. As for the artificial intelligence itself, those repairs were beyond Kofi’s art. They would need to put in at a Kymellian star port so that a qualified technomancer could evaluate the damage.

“What news?” the grease-stained colt asked, turning the conversation back to the meeting that G’Kar had attended. The Okaaran was back sooner than anticipated.

The Warlord did not look pleased. “Reports of a Shi’ar fleet massing near Chall,” the massive warrior-scholar noted grimly.

“So soon?” the boy uttered, his ears perked upward but his head downturned as he seemed to mull the revelation over. Chall was close enough that a Shi’ar stargate could put a fleet overhead in a matter of hours, not days. If the Shi’ar were massing, it was certain that an attack was imminent. “They can’t mean to attack again,” the boy remarked, looking up at G’kar as if for confirmation.

The Okaaran’s face was that of a man resigned to the harsh realities of war.

“Unless...” Kofi began, trailing off as he, instead, tapped his communicator. “Alora, any luck contacting the Starjammers?”

“I managed to make contact with a friend of a friend,” the Majesdanian’s teen supplied in answer, filtering back over the connection. “No word.”

The boy was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, he turned his head up toward G’Kar. “They know,” the young Kymellian stated finally. “They know Billy’s not here.”

The Warlord merely nodded in agreement. “Then they will be coming,” G’Kar warned solemnly.

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“...our combat forces will draw the enemy toward the edge of the system, providing cover for the transports to make their escape.”

The assembled militia were gathered around the Warlord of Okaara, as G’kar supplied the briefing that explained the plan to evacuate the colony.

There were people who doubted. People who thought that Kofi was yielding to nothing more than fear and suspicion.

Those doubts seemed moot as the first alarms sounded through the hangar. “Warning: Incoming stargate. Repeat, incoming stargate.”

“Give the evacuation order,” Kofi uttered, in an unusually firm tone for him. The authority afforded the Kymellian Technomancy’s aristocracy had never settled well on his young shoulders. Glancing around at the assembled pilots and officers, the boy added, “Then get to your transports.”

Of course, they would be joining that fight.

A particular sense of foreboding and dread sank into the boy’s stomach. With a wave of his hand, a shimmering light seemed to surround both himself and G’Kar...

...after which both appeared on the bridge of the Smartship Friday.

Alora was already at the navigation controls, bringing life back to the repaired ship. As both Kofi and G’Kar took their seats, the ship was starting to take off.

“Shields at maximum,” the Okaaran declared from the boy’s right. “Weapons at your command.”

“At your discretion, Warlord,” Kofi answered, before leaning forward. Through the viewport, he could see the line of Shi’ar cruisers approaching.

Well, this was familiar at least.

“Alora, let’s give the Shi’ar something to shoot at.”

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

_{[ theme: in the end ]}

As he straightened back up, the young Padjal was aware of the fact that the Lalafell, who had been sheltering behind him, had now stepped forward.

"The names River, and don't you go forgetting it."

Outspoken fellow, for having seemed so quiet or shy before. Clutching his staff, the boy's eyes just blinked as he stared down as River thrust himself into the conversation with...

...well, it was all rather direct. For a moment, E-Siri was not certain whether River was a Lalafell or just a very small Roegadyn for how very blunt the delivery was. Which, might have gotten the point across very quickly, but didn't seem very polite.

It was with that very thought in mind that E-Siri put one finger aloft. He had hoped to garner the attention of the three Lalafell. After all, in Gridania, all a Padjal had to do was blink and suddenly everyone was paying them mind. Here, not so much no. So, clearing his throat, the horned child meekly began, "I have some concerns..."

That was as far as he got before Kajin leapt into action. The boy winced as the smack was delivered. Thankfully, Kajin re-engaged Kikipu in conversation to try and smooth over the matter.

Though being that they were two Lalafell and a Padjal, E-Siri was curious just how Kajin intended to go about strong-arming a man into doing anything.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{[ Prev ] “FEAT OF CLAY, Part X” [ Next ]}

B L Ü D H A V E N

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^{1012 Parthorne Avenue}

“You really think that this’ll be the next place he hits?”

The doll hadn’t actually spoken aloud, though back at Dick Grayson’s brownstone, the man heard the boy’s voice all the same.

“Now that we know it’s Hagan, the robberies fit a pattern. He’s been working his way down one of the sewer mains.” Dick was kicked back in the man cave that was carved out inside of his condo, eating a Lean Cuisine that he’d microwaved for dinner as he checked in with the Toy Wonder through the remote connection that Charles had set up. Voice recognition protocol produced a transcript inside that was routed through the robot’s processor in the same manner in which he processed normal audio input. It kept the entire exchange between them completely silent, eliminating the risk of Toyboy Jason being overheard while on an assignment.

Lounging back in his chair, the plastic tray balanced on one thigh, Dick was amazed by what he was able to see. The secure feed from the upgraded software and remote networking capability that S.T.A.R. Labs had been able to install on Jason allowed Dick to tap into the boy’s visual field the same as if it were a video feed.

The glimpse on how the doll perceived the world around him was illuminating. Schott had designed the doll to alternate visual scanning along a rotating band of spectrum frequencies, producing an image that seemed to sweep from left to right, right to left, top to bottom, bottom to top. As it did, it shifted from the visual spectrum to infrared and back again.

Jason was atop the Blüdhaven Municipal Bus Terminal Building, which overlooked a jewelry store from the west side entrance. From this vantage point, facial recognition protocols that Dr. Charles had adapted tagged what it could identify as unique individuals. Amazingly, social media matching produced more than just a couple of matches in what was close to real time.

If George Orwell had ever met Jason, the man would likely have felt that 1984 had indeed come to pass.

“Hey, it’s that girl!”

Looking up from where he had a fork full of food, Dick was greeted by an enlarged image that framed a young brunette in the picture. The girl looked scared, constantly casting nervous glances over her shoulder. It was another moment before recognition hit. Dick had seen that same look, that same girl, before.

“Stay focused. We’re trying to catch Hagan,” Dick said, though the dizzying manner in which the visual field was now spinning told him that Jason had already moved from his surveillance point.

As if to confirm, the childlike voice cut in with, “Can’t talk. Hero time!”

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BLÜDHAVEN MUNICIPAL BUS TERMINAL

The girl was running scared.

Her attention more concerned with what was behind her, the bob-haired waif only realized that she’d stepped out in front of a city bus when the headlights had caught her eye.

She’d gasped, but didn’t scream until something grabbed her.

Hoisted up into the air, she hadn’t realized what had happened until she was back on her feet again. A boy -- the same one in the red suit and black cape from before -- had swooped in to pull her out of the bus’ path at the last second. Then, swinging through the air, deposited them both safely on the other side of the terminal.

No sooner had he let her go than she had thrown herself at him. Arms wrapped tightly around the doll, the girl buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed.

For his part, Jason was frozen in place. It was the robotic equivalent of being speechless, as his program had pre-loaded a selection of human behaviors that it had anticipated, with appropriate responses waiting in the L2 cache. But this? This sent the doll back into the L3 cache in order to compose a response.

After the seconds ticked by of just awkwardly standing there, like a mannequin, the boy gently returned the hug. Then, his hands, placed on her arms, pulled her away so that he could try to look her in the eye. “It’s okay,” he offered, though her face was turned away.

She planted a hand in the center of his chest, pushing him away as she started to break into a run.

He caught her hand, stopping her in mid-step. At last, she turned to look at him. When she did, he let go. “You don’t have to keep running.”

The sleeves of the pink cardigan she wore hung over the tops of her hands. Using the sleeve, she wiped away the tears from her eyes. “There’s a man after me.” It was a simple statement. Risking a look back over her shoulder, the panicked look returned before she looked back at the masked boy. “I... I have to keep moving.”

“Who is he?”

The girl’s mouth fell open, as if to answer, but then she seemed to pause there. “I... don’t know,” she admitted, before adding, “But, he’s always there. Even in my nightmares.”

“Be careful. A lot of runaways have underlying psychological distress. This girl probably needs a professional counselor.”

Jason had forgotten that he was still connected with Dick. The remote network operated through a virtual drive that was intentionally walled off from his normal processing, making the whole process appear to run in the background. Putting on a smile, the doll again reached out to take the girl by the shoulders. “It’s okay to be afraid,” he stated frankly, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze as he added, “I just want to help you.”

“Her face isn’t coming up in the database of missing kids,” Dick’s voice supplied inside of the robot’s head. “See if you can get her to give you a name.”

Withdrawing an arm, the boy gestured to indicate himself as he offered, “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

The same pained expression. Her hands came up to either side of her head, as though she were trying to viscerally pull the answer out. “I...” she stammered, before shaking her head. “I can’t even remember that,” she uttered finally.

“There’s a shelter about three blocks over. They have counselors on staff that should be able to connect her with the resources that she needs.”

Ducking low, the masked doll put his face so that it was beneath hers, looking up at her with a smile as he nonchalantly said, “That’s okay, we’ll improvise.” Straightening back up, the boy craned his to peer through the interior of the bus terminal. “How about...” he began, even as various lists began to spool in his memory.

A girl was about to board a bus, carrying a Little Orphan Annie doll under her arm. “...Annie,” the doll concluded, turning to look back at the dark haired girl.

Still wiping at her face with the edge of her sleeve, the girl gave a weak laugh. At the name, or maybe the goofy boy who had offered it, or even just the fact that this was the first time that she could remember anyone caring. “Okay,” she answered meekly.

Then she panicked, her breath frozen in her lungs in a sharp intake of air.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s near,” the girl answered, ominously. Then, looking left, pointed to an open door cast in the shadows as she proclaimed. “There!”

To both Jason and Dick’s amazement, as the doll’s visual field swept over the doorway, it revealed that there was someone there. Watching. While the infrared imaging was unclear, the passing headlights of a bus at last supplied a better visual inspection.

He was tall. Powerfully build. With a face like that of Borris Karloff. And a pair of piercing, inhuman eyes.

“That’s Hagan,” Dick’s voice warned sharply.

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

_{[ THEME: TO THE SUN ]}

The horned boy's vantage point from the central area of the bazaar gave him a good perspective on the place.

The lengthening shadows. The colors of the painted Thanalan desert. The sounds of the dark sea. The people mulling about, gathering around the auctioneer that was hawking the wares that had drawn the crowd there.

Rats?

Head turned down, the young Padjal scanned the cobblestones for any signs of scampering marmots. Not seeing any, he was quite at a loss to explain why their Mi'qote companion would have hoisted himself up the proverbial flagpole. Let alone be shouting about rats. He could easily put a fright into some people that way, and there was narry a marmot to be found as near as E-Siri could see!

“Kikipu, this is E-Siri, a Padjal of Gridania."

It appeared that introductions were in order. Straightening up, the horned child crossed his arms out before him and then bowed in the customary salute of Stillglade Fane. "Salutations," the boy offered in his childish tone of voice "We would be most grateful if you had any news to share of any strange lot that might have passed through thine bazaar."

The boy paused there a moment.

"Other than ourselves, that is," he amended after a think.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

_{[ Prev ] “PASSING THROUGH GETHSEMANE, Part III” [ Next ]}

K N O W H E R E

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^{Outer Limits of the Milky Way Galaxy}

...if you like piña coladas
getting caught in the rain
if you’re not into yoga
if you have half a brain…

Air pods nestled in his ears, the lyrical stylings of Rupert Holmes supplied the music as the child rocketed through the cosmos at speeds that defied human understanding.

Knowhere wasn’t a planet. It wasn’t an asteroid or a moon. It was a head. A literal head. The decaying remains carved out as the blood and tissues of the primordial corpse were mined for the exotic minerals they contained.

It was a shadowport. It wasn’t on any maps. At least, not any maps that legitimate businesses used. The Resistance had made it a port of call on occasion, but only when absolutely necessary. The criminal element was rife in Knowhere. It was the last safe haven of Reavers and their ilk. The kind of people who moved flesh markets like people were just another commodity or vice to be sold. Suffice to say, they didn’t get a lot of kids here.

Even less so, kids who flew in under their own power

Straightening up, Billy oriented himself to the shadowport’s artificial gravity as he entered inside of the airlock and passed through the atmospheric shield. His tennis shoes touched down a moment later, as the boy casually stepped out amid a slew of dock workers who were staring, open-mouthed, at what they had just witnessed.

Kicking his head to the side, the boy shook the ice that had formed in his hair and eyebrows. A hand coming up to swipe a lock of hair from out of his face as he strolled onto the main thoroughfare.

As he rounded a corner, Billy saw a Bolovaxian that was four or five times his size pushing along a chain gang of aliens. Men. Women. Children. It was easy to see that they were slaves being moved.

The boy’s fist clenched. His cold, sapphire eyes locked onto the Bolovaxian. For his part, the porcine giant just laughed and said something extremely rude in the local trade pidgin.

Five seconds was all that Billy would need to free those people… but then he’d be fighting his way out of Knowhere. And he hadn’t come here to free slaves.

He’d come here to meet with some terrorists in the hope of possibly rescuing some Kymelians before they could wind up in a chain gang like that one. And he couldn’t do that if he was picking every fight and championing every cause between here and Chandilar.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. Seventy or fifty years ago, Billy would have said fuck it and punched that Bolovaxian from here to the Golden Galaxy and then taken on the whole world and every last motherfucker in it…

...but it was 2019. And he walked away.

It made him sick to his stomach. “Does anyone remember when we used to be heroes?” the boy uttered softly. Meeting in secret with terrorists. Arranging a smuggling operation. No more dealing directly with the enemy. Everything had become shadow and shadowplay.

That didn’t sound like a hero to Billy.

At some point, war didn’t require a hero. It required that someone be ready to do whatever needed to be done.

The meeting place was a Reaver dive. He’d been expecting a bar of some kind. A dive, obviously. Instead, no sooner had Billy pushed through the doors than he looked up and saw a scantily-clad Arisian dancer hooked around a pole.

He felt his face become hot, as he quickly looked away and shuffled on in. Of course, it would be one of those kinds of bars. Why not? After all, this was the galaxy’s version of a truck stop.

“Friiiiieeeeeend…”

Raising his eyes, the embarrassed youth found himself looking at a hulking, green reptillian alient. Alora had said that his name was Ch’od. Billy had asked Alora about how she’d met one of the infamous Starjammers and the answer had apparently swiping ripe on some dating app. At that point, Billy had stopped asking questions.

A wicked, taloned hand that was at least as large as Billy’s head gestured toward an empty seat. As the boy took the offered chair, the lizard alien loomed down over the child as he uttered, “You have come to bargain. Yessss?”

A single, clawed digit pushed a dirty mug of some kind of piss-colored froth across the table toward him.

Billy pushed the offered mug away, craning his head back as he said, “I’m looking for passage to Spartax.”

“Ssssspartaxxxxx,” the lizard man echoed, almost mockingly. A lingering note of mirth seemed to resonate like hollow laughter. “Ssssspartaxxxx easy is not,” the massive alien remarked, his clawed hand turning its palm up on the table top as he said, “Ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand?”

Ch’od’s face split into a Cheshire grin, withdrawing back into the shadows as he mockingly added, “In advanccccce.”

Billy’s jaw tensed. His eyes pulsed with an inhuman light as he looked up at the alien. This was starting to feel like a set up. “That’s not what you discussed with Alora,” the boy said, his words carefully measured to try and maintain some semblance of civility.

A large, clawed hand came across the table as Ch’od leaned forward. “Ah, but Alora not say the job was for Billy Batson of Earth,” the alien almost purred, the line punctuated by the same hollow mirth as before.

Then the hand slammed down on top of Billy’s. There was a look of confusion on the boy’s face, as Ch’od declared, “Bounty on you is worth seventeen thousand!”

Something didn’t feel right.

Yanking his hand out from under Ch’od’s, Billy found some kind of patch affixed to the back of his left hand. There was a burning or itching sensation starting to form underneath it. Billy clamped his right hand over the left, tugging to try and pull it off -- but that actually succeeded in making the sensation worse.

A gasp of pain escaped from out of Billy’s lips, as a feeling like that of lightning coursing through his veins racked his body. He fell out of the chair, collapsing onto the floor as his body curled into a fetal position.

Sparks were igniting between his teeth as he bit down and then gave a loud sigh of relief as the patch finally came free.

Kofi said this had been a bad idea.

...boy, was Billy glad that the horse kid wasn’t here right now. Billy really wasn’t in the mood for that smug Kymellian I told you so attitude. Especially because Kofi was usually right about these things.

Rolling up on his knees, Billy started to get up. That was when Ch’od’s hand came down to engulf his head, forcing him back down. Grabbing on to the alien’s arm with his right, Billy pulled it aside as he came up from the floor with a left hook that buried itself in the alien’s midsection.

Ch’od went sailing across the bar, knocking tables and chairs aside before he slammed up against the side of the dancer stage.

Four more aliens advanced on Billy. Or, where there six? Eight?

“Oh, shit,” the boy uttered, trying to get back to his feet and staggering like an old drunk. He was seeing double. Halos surrounded the lighting. His equilibrium was shot and it felt like the floor kept trying to rush at him.

He doubted people played billards at space truck stops, but the stick that someone had just broken over the top of his head was very pool cue-esque. Someone caught him in the gut, while another hit him behind the knee. A fist connected with the side of Billy’s head and the boy went down hard.

Which was when the beating just intensified.

Billy managed to grab a foot, chucking it and whatever might be attached to it up into the air. His other hand felt along the floor, discovering a splintered fragment of the pool cue and then Billy was coming up swinging.

Win some, lose some. He connected solidly with something. A person? Maybe. Hell, at this point, Billy was pretty sure he was on some kind of acid trip. The walls were melting, the floor was the ceiling, and this was the goddamn golden brick road of poor life choices. Was he fighting a person? Or just swinging at the wall? Honestly, at this point, Billy had no idea.

His head snapped aside. Some dull part of his brain rationalizing that he’d just been punched across the face. Repeatedly. He was back down a knee, with the floor or ceiling or whatever the hell this was rapidly approaching.

A burst of plasma erupted from the boy, as a scream of rage ripped from out of his throat with a ferocity that sent everyone flying in all directions as the front of the bar was blown out into the street.

Billy struggled to get back to his feet, managed to take one step, and then collapsed.