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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A/N: Hello! I've decided to revive this fic by, well, rewriting it! Please enjoy <3

Pairing: BBRae

Genre/Warnings/Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Protectiveness, Secret Past, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Abusive Parents, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21....and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like...a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he'll ever need.

Chapter 2: The First Fight [Remastered!] (words 6,600)

One of the most annoying parts of being a vigilante was Robin’s insistence on a dress code.

As it turned out, no one wanted to be rescued by some random guy in jeans and a t-shirt. But there was a certain art to sidelining the regrettably human aspect of being super-human. Managing a secret identity—and all the technicalities that came with it—was just a part of the gig. Something that quickly became second nature to a seasoned hero.

At least, that’s what Beast Boy assumed.

As Raven frequently reminded him, the concept of sustaining an alter ego sort of collapsed in on itself when your skin was green.

Not that he had anything to hide—or anyone else he wanted to be.

Not that it would have mattered if he did.

By the time he made it to his room, the rain had picked up in earnest, pounding a steady staccato beat against the window. With careful precision, he quickly carved a path through the organized chaos of his bedroom floor, dodging piles of discarded clothes, unopened impulse purchases, and half-forgotten hobbies. He knelt near the foot of his bed and began a frantic excavation through the overflowing laundry basket that had taken up permanent residence there. With each wrinkled garment he tossed aside, he became more painfully aware of the precious seconds ticking by. Precious seconds that might not have added up so quickly had he remembered to fold his laundry for once.

Halfway through the bin, he finally found what he was looking for—slick black athletic joggers and a form fitting long sleeve shirt. With the rain and wind howling outside, they were his best bet to ward off the oncoming autumn chill. After shrugging into the outfit, he pulled on a pair of extra grip running shoes and made for the door.

There was just one more thing he needed. The pièce de résistance of the outfit, currently draped over the back of his desk chair. He snagged the red and white varsity jacket from its perch and shrugged into the vinyl like a second skin. Raven had once commented that the jacket was, quote, ‘visually abrasive’. Cyborg had told him it ‘made him look like a Christmas tree’.

Naturally, he wore it every chance he got.

He’d never admit to calling it a costume, but if he couldn’t have a secret identity, the least he could do was stick to a consistent color scheme.

He swiped his phone off the desk and checked the time, muttering a curse under his breath. It had only been five minutes tops since they’d disbanded in the living room—but five minutes was cutting it dangerously close with Robin keeping score. The guy practically lived in his self-proclaimed uniform. Beast Boy wouldn’t have been the tiniest bit surprised to find that he slept in it too.

After weaving his way through the endless halls, he thundered down the last set of stairs and flew into the garage. By the time he got there, only Robin and Cyborg remained—the former about to hop on his bike, the latter tinkering with his car.

“There you are,” Robin said, just about to pull his helmet over his head.

“Sorry,” Beast Boy panted. “I was just— “

“Don’t apologize.” Robin’s voice was flat, the black sheen of the headpiece obscuring his features.

“Right. Sorry.”

He didn’t have the nerve to point out that he was playing at a disadvantage. Raven could teleport anywhere in an instant. Cyborg barely had to change. Robin was, well, Robin. And, on the exceedingly rare occasion that Starfire was ever late or unprepared, their fearless leader barely seemed to notice. Maybe that was just one of the perks of dating him.

“I’ve already sent Star and Raven ahead of us,” Robin said, his voice crackling through the built-in mic. “Go catch up with them. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cyborg rounded the hood of the car, his fingers flying across a touchscreen on his forearm. “I just sent you both their location.”

Robin nodded, revving the engine through thick leather gloves. In an instant, he disappeared into the darkness, his headlights cutting a dull glow through the onslaught of rain.

Beast Boy took off running after him.

In one quick movement the ground disappeared under his feet, the slick concrete replaced by wild wind streaming through his talons. Heavy pearls of rain slid off his outstretched wings as he propelled himself forward. From high above, he followed the pinprick of light from Robin’s bike until it was inevitably swallowed up by the glowing hum of the city.

But Beast Boy didn’t need a map to find his way. Not with the streets sprawled out beneath him in miniature.

Before long, the curtain of heavy rain parted, giving way to a light drizzle. He turned his attention to the world beneath him where, even through the afternoon gloom, he picked out little snippets of strangers’ lives unfolding below. On one corner, he caught a woman handing out pamphlets from atop an overturned crate. On the other, a daycare was letting out for the day, children running left and right into their parents’ arms. Further up ahead, he caught sight of a tangle of flashing lights—police cars. The bank had to be just around the corner.

Beast Boy plummeted into the maze of high-rises, gliding toward the scene with deadly grace. After a moment, he pulled back, landing atop a patio chair on an adjacent rooftop. A small flock of sparrows scattered beneath him, abandoning the handful of stray crumbs on which they’d been feasting. He quickly shifted back, the scent of coffee and fresh baked bread filling the air. The smell alone was enough to make his stomach rumble. As it turned out, two handfuls of chips and a soda made a pretty lousy excuse for lunch.

He brought the phone to his ear as he surveyed the crime scene below. “I’m here. But it looks like the party’s already over.”

Cyborg’s voice crackled to life on the other end. “Raven and Star just left. They’re cutting west—toward the edge of town.” His voice was momentarily replaced by the sound of frantic typing. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have eyes on them. They’re flying right into a dead zone.”

Beast Boy smiled to himself. “Piece of cake.”

He slid the phone back into his pocket and leapt off the edge of the rooftop. Wings spread over the sea of blaring lights and wailing sirens below, he cruised past the display under the shadow of a passing storm cloud. A block ahead, he banked a sharp right, diving down a side street and into an alley where he landed effortlessly on all fours. From there, he kept to the shadows as he padded along, working his way back toward the bank. No one would spare a second glance for a mangy stray hound sniffing through the trash for its dinner.

Nose skirting the asphalt and large, floppy ears dragging along behind it, Beast Boy made his way methodically around the perimeter. The rain admittedly made things more difficult, muddling the warring scents of the city in a foggy haze. But he was confident he’d find the trail eventually—the scent he was searching for was hard to miss.

After trotting through the shadows for several minutes, he finally caught a whiff of it. The sickly sweet and slightly smoky aroma was faint at first, but it was so distinctly different from the surrounding smells—exhaust fumes, rancid garbage, and now wet dog—that just one sniff was enough to set him into a sneezing fit. The path appeared before him like an invisible line tethered beyond the horizon. He let it tug him forward.

As he walked, polished skyscrapers gave way to narrow brownstone apartment buildings. The sky opened up above the rooftops, and the hum of daily life crawled back toward the earth.

He ambled down a side street where the road lines had faded into mere suggestion. Rounding the corner, he skirted the edge of a gas station flanked by cracked sidewalks and pockets of crabgrass. At the edge of the lot, several men leaned against the wall of the attached convenience store, laughing and smoking cigarettes under a twitching neon sign. Streetlights became few and far between. The further he went, the fewer faces he saw—among them he counted a solitary stray cat, its lips pulled back and teeth bared as it let out a spine-tingling hiss from behind a wilted cardboard box.

Beast Boy knew he was still very much in the city—but there was an emptiness to this part of it. Here, at the fringes of the cosmopolitan tapestry, life was barely clinging on. As if the people and places around him had been deemed a stubborn stain on the fabric of society.

At the end of the street, asphalt shifted to grass. The smells and sounds of the urban sprawl faded into the distance as he plodded onward across the dewy forest floor. The weight in his chest faded with each step—and disappeared completely the moment he spotted flaming red hair and a dark purple cloak between the trees.

“Beast Boy!” Starfire gasped.

In an instant, he was on his own two feet, hands tucked snuggly in the pockets of his jacket.

“’Sup ladies,” he drawled, closing the distance between them.

“How were you able to locate us? Our devices fail to broadcast a signal.”

He rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, sore from his hunched over hike through the streets. “Oh, that was easy. Raven stinks.”

Raven glared at him, her eyes two menacing slits under a cloak of shadow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stretched his arms behind his back, his muscles singing. “You always smell like the weird candles they burn that store on Second street. The one with all the mini Buddha statues and Grateful Dead t-shirts.”

Raven frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “It’s called incense. And I’ve never set foot in that stupid store in my life.”

“Well, it reeks,” he said dramatically wrinkling his nose.

Raven gave him a once over. “At least I don’t smell like a soggy doggy daycare.”

Starfire quickly stepped between them. “Robin is not with you?”

Beast Boy shook his head. “I’m guessing he took a pit stop at the bank—that, or he’s stuck in traffic.”

Starfire muttered an incomprehensible string of syllables under her breath.

Behind them, the last few rays of sunlight fought their way through the clouds. But they were fading fast. Darkness—true nighttime darkness—was fast approaching, despite the early hour. Slowly, the muted orange glow on the horizon was replaced by the subtle green glimmer of his friend’s emerald eyes.

“So…”

“We just lost them,” Raven said flatly.

Beast Boy looked around the clearing once more, this time stopping to take in all the sights, sounds, and other smells of the sparsely wooded area. The air was crisp and surprisingly clear, the steady hum of crickets and occasional flash of fireflies peppering the more rugged terrain up ahead. But there was something else—something unnatural—whispering underneath the chorus of the setting sun.

In a flash, he traded two feet for four once more, and a familiar green elephant appeared in the clearing. His teammates’ eyes both widened as the massive creature’s heft sent a tremor through the earth, but they remained silent as he shuffled back and forth across the space. With each step, he felt the whisper grow louder and louder. It was as though a hundred tiny hammers were pounding deep beneath the earth, the vibrations clambering through the soil in search of an escape.

He shifted back, coming to a halt where he’d started. “I don’t think you guys lost them. Not exactly.”

Starfire’s eyes fell to the ground. “Do you mean to suggest— “

Beast Boy nodded. “I can hear something—or…feel it, I guess. Underground.” He dropped down low, putting an ear against the earth. Just like that, the sound vanished, invisible to his human senses.

Raven let out a long-suffering sigh. “So obviously the solution is to stomp on the ceiling until they let us in.”

Beast Boy elected to ignore her, his ear still pressed against the damp earth. Somewhere far below, the distant thrumming breached the threshold of human hearing. He rolled back onto the balls of his feet. “Whatever’s going on down there, it’s getting louder.”

“They’re probably coming upstairs to see who rang the doorbell.”

Before he could conjure up a retort, Starfire’s voice cut between them.

“Friends—“

Beast Boy turned, following her gaze to where several metal objects had begun to rise out of the ground.

A second later Raven’s hands flew into the air, a translucent purple dome forming around them.

Lasers struck the barrier from every direction, pounding against it like dizzying metallic rain. Beast Boy watched as the deflected beams razed through boulders and splintered surrounding trees like toothpicks. In less than a minute, their small bubble of safety was completely entrenched in dust and flying debris. Here and there, small fist-sized pockets started to open and close across the perimeter of the shield—just long enough for Starfire to throw several shots of blazing green energy into the darkness. Each time one of the sporadic blasts landed a hit, it was met with a resounding crackle and pop of yellow light.

He glanced over his shoulder at Raven, her expression strained as she poured all of her focus into maintaining the wall around them. Starfire’s eyes were equally alight with raw, unfettered rage, her hands moving in perfect rhythm to the gaps blinking in and out of existence.

It was a flawless execution of skill—of two teammates working in perfect harmony. But perfect harmony had backed them into a corner. And that little corner of safety wouldn’t hold forever.

Thanks to the rain, the earth was soft and malleable, flying quickly under Beast Boy’s paws as he started to dig. He didn’t need to go far, just under the barrier and out the other side. And the fastidious feet of a field mouse were perfect for the job. To the tune of destruction all around him, he quietly toiled and tunneled away, before silently slipping through. There were unique advantages to being small—especially when staging the element of surprise. And in that moment, Beast Boy decided that there would be nothing more surprising than a Bengal tiger materializing a mile outside city limits.

There was a thrumming in his ears, in his heart, in his head, as he let the thought take over. As he felt his tiny mud-clod nails morph into sharp, vicious claws. As he curled his toes and arched his spine, the massive pads of his feet sinking into the earth. Every muscle in his body, from the tip of his twitching nose to the end of his striped, green tail, rippled with an insatiable, indescribable hunger.

The turrets that had sprung from the ground continued their steady assault on his friends, firing in a persistent, predictable pattern. But something else pulled his attention toward the shadows.

Eyes gleaming in the weapons’ light, the rest of his senses snapped into place. He crouched low to the ground, his muscles taut and set to spring. His instincts pulled him toward the darkness beyond and what he sensed was lurking there. Watching. Waiting.

Claws digging into the wet earth, the coiled tension in his limbs snapped free as he lunged forward into the void. With a bellowing roar, his razor-sharp teeth sank into a mass of metal, the tips of shredded circuitry singing his fur. His target, now nothing more than a mangled husk of elaborate engineering, collapsed beneath him with a heavy thud.

Beast Boy blinked, his feline vision sharpening against the planes of light still ricocheting against Raven’s shield. In between the flashes, he studied the contours of the mechanical creature twitching under his paw. A head, torso, arms, and legs all came into focus. The smell of silicone and burning metal filled his nose as he took a lumbering step backward. It was all he could do to dispel the sudden, overwhelming urge to rip the thing to pieces.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the ring of turrets still firing behind him.

Deadly as they were, the machines themselves had been designed to be discreet—small, delicate, and easily downed by a single swat from a tiger’s paw.

His ears pricked as the last one went tumbling through the grass, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. In the darkness, the distinct whisper of footsteps fast approaching cut through the haze. The lone assailant from earlier had probably been a scout—with friends now on the way.

Beast Boy’s tail flicked in anticipation, his eyes cold and unblinking.

The first figure to emerge from the shadows leapt at him with inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a blink. Arms raised high above its head, it gripped one end of a long, metal quarterstaff—the other flickering with a wild electric pop as it came barreling toward his head.

He dodged the attack with less than an inch to spare, quickly twisting his head around in the opposite direction. While the figure regained its footing, he moved in, clamping down on the lower half of the weapon. With one quick motion, he wrenched it from the wielder’s grasp, savoring the way the metal crumpled between his teeth like a cheap plastic toy.

In the distance, Raven and Starfire had emerged, exercising a full range of attacks against the oncoming onslaught of enemies. There were a dozen of them, at least. Before the severed halves of the staff hit the ground, another one of the mindless drones was upon him.

This opponent opted to go low, swiping another one of the glorified cattle prods at his feet. Beast Boy jumped back, morphing mid-air into the first thing he could think of—a tiny hummingbird fluttering just out of reach. Just as quickly, he dropped back to the earth sporting stripes once more, poised to pounce.

But not fast enough.

The second the weapon blazed past him, the wielder doubled back, slinging the staff into a deadly uppercut. He scrambled, throwing his weight to the left as blue and white sparks flew off the cold metal end of the pole—and connected with his shoulder in a sizzling smash.

It was impossible to restrain the thundering growl that burst from the back of his throat. His shoulder seized, the trembling jolt snaking its way down his arm, through his neck, and up through the base of his skull. A spiderweb of pain jerked his muscles inward as he reared back, tumbling to the ground.

He caught himself on human hands, the splintered remains of tree branches digging into his palms. Now would be the time to shift—into something, into anything—but his body rebelled against him, muscles still twitching with electric venom. Underneath it all, he became distantly aware of a raw, burning pain that began to blossom in the crook of his neck, slowly bleeding outward in every direction.

Once more, a shadow fell over him, the contours of the figure illuminated by the crackling light of its staff.

Beast Boy shut his eyes, prepping to endure another gut-wrenching blow. Instead, a horrible crash flooded his ears, yanking him back into reality. His eyes flew open, only to find that the author of his impending doom had been blown into a pile of misshapen mechanical pieces.

Suddenly, a hand curled around the collar of his jacket, yanking him backwards. He spun around, expecting to lock eyes with an enemy hungry for some close combat. What he found instead was much, much worse.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Raven hissed, her voice a deadly whisper that just barely cut through the din of destruction. They’d ended up crouched behind a massive fallen oak tree, the battle still raging on the other side. A much smaller force field pulsed around them, pushing them close enough that their shoulders brushed behind the cover of the toppled trunk.

“They had us backed into a corner,” he shot back, wincing from the pain as he turned to chance a look over the barricade. There was an entirely separate fight happening in the sky, where Starfire held a steady line against the enemies from above. “What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and do nothing?”

“I had it under control,” she bit back through gritted teeth.

He turned to meet her head on. The motion was enough to send a fresh wave of pain coursing through his shoulder. “You really wanna do this? Right now?”

“We’re supposed to be working together. That’s the whole point of being on a team.”

“I took out like six guns for you guys!” he said, gesturing to the battlefield with his good arm. “How is that not working together?”

In the next second, Raven whipped around, dropping the shield just long enough to send a discarded tree branch flying faster than a bullet. It skewered an encroaching enemy straight through the chest, flying out the other side. The android’s torso promptly burst into flames as it stumbled forward and fell unceremoniously to its knees. She didn’t miss a beat, turning her searing gaze on him once more.

“Did you even have a plan?”

“Of course I had a plan—”

“Improvising doesn’t count as a plan,” she bit out, throwing the shield around them again—and not a second too soon.

Before Beast Boy could reply, a deafening metal clank rattled the dome. His attention flew up to where another staff-wielding enemy lumbered above them, winding up for a second swing. He locked eyes with Raven, a silent message in her stare.

A single second before impact, the shield disappeared. Beast Boy threw himself backward, just out of range of the lethal swipe. The weapon and its wielder came crashing down, propelled by an overestimation of brute force as both crashed into the tree trunk.

Raven was already up on the other side. With a sharp flick of her wrist, several blades of shadow sliced through the attacker’s metal armor, sending the staff rolling from its twitching hand.

Shoulder still throbbing, Beast Boy pushed himself up from the ground. The chaos had attracted the attention of several other androids, each now charging them with reckless abandon.

He didn’t give himself room to register the pain as he shifted. He focused instead on the way the breeze began to roll off his slick, bony scales. The way the scent of damp decay filled his nostrils. The way it tasted on his tongue, slumbering behind two long rows of impossibly sharp teeth. Bracing four stubby crocodile feet against the earth, he let the muscles in his long, jagged tail pull the weight of his next attack. A sickening crunch echoed through the air as the blow sent several of the figures skidding across the forest floor.

Riding the momentum of the swing, Beast Boy maneuvered himself in the opposite direction. A second attacker had already appeared behind him, perfectly poised to strike an electrified blow.

Just before the weapon found its mark, an identical staff flew through the air above him with deadly precision. The defending android parried, clashing against the unmanned assault as the weapon spun and slashed under a shroud of shadow—just long enough for Beast Boy to find an opening. It came in the form of an artfully crafted blunder—a strike from the floating weapon that sent the android stumbling backward…right into his gaping reptilian maw. He easily latched onto the foe’s leg, yanking it with a sharp tug that sent wires spitting and sparks flying across the clearing.

It was a silent waltz through a whirlwind of teeth and shadows.

Words were redundant, all sound swallowed by the crunch of steel and sizzling circuitry. A nod of the head, a flick of a tail, a hurried glance through widened eyes—an unspoken language wove its way through their movements as they pushed the enemy back.

When the last one fell, a hollow silence replaced the clanging and clashing, broken only by the whisper of leaves skirting across the expanse of mechanical corpses.

Beast Boy transformed back, slumping heavily against a nearby tree. Red hot pain coursed through his shoulder, begging for his attention. He focused instead on the jagged bark biting at the nape of his neck, the soft scrapes a welcome distraction from the muscles seizing up an inch below.

“Beast Boy—” Starfire glided back down to earth a foot from where he’d settled. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he ground out, hoping she wouldn’t catch the hitch in his breath. “I just…pulled a muscle.”

Raven appeared on the opposite side, already kneeling next to him.

“Take off your jacket,” she said flatly.

Before he had time to protest, her hands were raised, palms outstretched over the site of impact. He hesitated but shrugged his arm halfway through the sleeve.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, turning to Starfire. It was all he could do to pull his attention from the strange tingling sensation spreading down his shoulder and up his neck.

Starfire silently produced a small metal object from her pocket. A strange mixture of relief and distress colored her features. “I removed this from the metal skull of one of our attackers. It bears the same letters as the item Robin presented to us earlier.”

Suddenly, there was a shift in the sensation radiating through his right side. He glanced over at Raven, whose attention had turned to the ground below him. She removed her hands, taking the sweet tingling numbness with her. In its absence, the once searing pain had now faded to a dull ache.

“Scoot over,” she said, waving him to the side.

Using his good arm to push himself up, he reluctantly obeyed.

She promptly began brushing aside the soggy leaves gathered at the base of the tree. After a moment, her efforts revealed a dim red light blinking weakly among the roots.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “How did you—?”

“Your ass was blinking,” she answered plainly.

He couldn’t help the small sardonic smile that appeared on his face. “Why were you staring at my ass?”

Starfire let loose a small giggle—and quickly squashed it as Raven shot her an exasperated look.

The look didn’t leave her face as she returned to the light, giving it a hard tap. In response, a small translucent panel popped out of the bark of the tree a few feet above them, a red beam of light rippling over its surface.

“It…appears to be some manner of identification device,” Starfire observed.

Raven’s gaze turned toward the battlefield behind them. A second later, one of the many dismembered limbs scattered across the ground flew into her open hand. She made quick work of removing the dirty leather glove adorning the end of it, revealing five digits wrapped in silicone skin. With a cold, disinterested efficiency, she held each finger up to the scanner. When she reached the ring finger, the red light leaking from the device changed to a vibrant neon green.

A few feet away, a mechanical hiss slithered through the leaves, punctuated by a loud click—as a well of darkness yawned into existence in the forest floor.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Raven murmured.

Starfire took a step closer to examine the pit. “Perhaps this is the entrance to their lair?”

Raven chucked the arm into the brush behind her. “I have a hard time believing that someone who gives their robot henchmen fingerprints would overlook such an obvious design flaw in their security system.”

“It is rather convenient,” Starfire hummed. “A circumstance which would usually suggest it is a trap.”

“Or maybe we just got lucky,” Beast Boy interjected, biting back the pain as he pulled himself to his feet. “Only one way to find out.”

Raven locked eyes with him instantly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He exhaled a humorless laugh. “Yeah, right. Like I’m seriously gonna just sit here and do nothing while you guys have all the fun.”

“Whatever’s waiting down there isn’t going to be fun.”

He made a point to ignore the clear warning in her tone. “If it’s a trap, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“You were just electrocuted.”

“Then you did your magic healing stuff, and now I’m fine. Look—” As he spoke, he threw his hand into the air to demonstrate—and winced as his muscle spasmed, the pain ignited anew.

Raven’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Is this some kind of joke to you? Or are you actually stupid enough to think that you’re fit to fight?”

Starfire quickly wormed her way between them like a human shield, a sugary sweet smile plastered to her face. “I believe what Raven means to say is that we care very deeply for your safety, Beast Boy, and we would not wish to see you come to further harm if it can be avoided. Perhaps, in order to prevent complications, it would be best for you to remain here and keep watch instead?”

Behind her, Raven continued to stare daggers at him, an unspoken threat that left no room for negotiation.

He turned away from them both, leaning back against the tree and letting his attention fall to the other half of the abandoned battlefield. “Fine. I’ll just…wait here in case Robin shows up.”

One set of footsteps behind him quickly picked up in the opposite direction. The second pair lingered for a moment longer but shortly followed suit.

After a moment, both disappeared completely.

Beast Boy sighed, running his hand along his shoulder. All around him, the ironic chirp of crickets rang through the hollow silence.

He scanned the field, taking in the bodies littering the ground. He didn’t want to think about how few of them he was responsible for. Whatever the number, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He turned, eyes falling to the opening in the ground.

“Raven wants me to play babysitter? Yeah, as if.”

If he could manage to stand, he could manage to fight. He’d already been fighting. Besides, there were plenty of animals that didn’t even have arms. He bit his lip, tossing ideas back and forth. There had to be something he could get away with—even if it was on a technicality.

The answer came to him in the form of something small, fuzzy, and decidedly armless. Of course, the distinction between arms and legs grew a bit blurry when it came to something like a bumblebee. It was a logistical loophole aided by the fact that his wings would be doing most of the work on the way down.

And it was a long way down.

The passage wasn’t just dark—it was damp, slimy, and at least three times as cold as the wind chill on the surface. He could already feel his body starting to slow, not built for the dropping temperatures. After an agonizingly long descent, Beast Boy was beginning to second guess his decision—when suddenly a dim, yellow light crept into his peripheral. It slowly grew wider and wider until it occupied his entire field of view.

A second later, he bumped up against a cold, solid surface at the bottom of the well—and took the opportunity to transform again.

His scaly belly tingled against the frigid tile floor as he flicked his forked tongue, tasting the air for any hint of a trail to follow. He found the one he was looking for effortlessly.

A few feet ahead, a handful of mice darted frantically into a large hole in the wall. A snake was probably a rare sight in a place like this—and for good reason. As he wove through the passageway, he could already feel his muscles straining. Whether from the cold or from his injury, he was quickly losing steam. A part of him wished he could pull over and ask for directions. Unfortunately, talking to animals wasn’t quite as easy as turning into them. Especially when you were at opposite ends of the food chain.

When he rounded the first corner, the scent he’d been following shifted, buried under a slowly building cacophony of other smells. Mildew. Sawdust. Steel. Exhaust. Underneath it all, a sticky chemical residue lingered in the air, making his head spin.

At the next turn, he found out why.

Without warning, the hallway opened wide to reveal a large, cavernous warehouse. Stacks upon stacks of wooden crates lined the walls, with others grouped together by size on the floor. Several of the larger boxes had already been pried open, wood chips spilling out like pulpy guts between the yellowing, iron-studded boards. In the far corner, two forklifts sat temporarily abandoned amidst pallets of shrink-wrapped plastic containers and haphazardly poised glass terrariums.

Beast Boy quickly slithered along the edge of the wall, weaving through the debris toward one of the open crates. A cursory tongue sniff through the pine shavings confirmed that it was indeed empty—and had been for a while. Circling back, he found the discarded lid, where a string of words and numbers had been hastily scribbled in a thick, black script.

P. natalensis (N. 146, N. 589, N. 327)

A thrill of satisfaction swept through him as he glossed over the phrase one, two, three more times. It was exactly the sort of thing Robin would eat up—exactly the sort of thing that would earn him a bona fide pat on the back for his efforts, whether Raven liked it or not.

So long as he could commit it to memory.

He checked the lid again. P. natalensis, P. natalensis, P. natalensis. He played the phrase like a broken record in his head. The digits were decidedly a lost cause. But if he could at least remember the word…

A headache was beginning to rumble behind his beady black eyes—when a catastrophic boom rang out at the opposite end of the room.

Beast Boy quickly slithered into the shadows cast by the fallen crate, taking refuge among the pine shavings.

The ground shook with a violent fury, green beams of light carving explosive fissures in the subway tile. A few feet away, several of the crates rose into the air, only to be launched like missiles across the room. From the shadows, he shifted into a different shape—one that provided a sharpened sense of sight in the eerie gloom. Through the eyes of a tiny screech owl—with a decidedly inoperable right wing—he absorbed the scene unfolding before him, a panorama of unending movement.

Raven came into frame first, hands raised and eyes aglow as she took possession of one of the forklifts, heaving it into the darkness. Despite the devastating blow, a horde of encroaching enemies slithered past her, a stream of red lasers emerging from the cloudy aftermath of the wreckage.

Not far behind, Starfire emerged from the fray, beating back another small battalion. Between shots, she redirected the flow of battle toward a tower of precariously poised crates. With a single blast the structure toppled, crushing a handful of androids underneath.

There was a third group on the move behind them—but they didn’t seem interested in fighting. Instead, they barreled toward him, making moves to cart away the unopened crates as fast as their legs could carry them.

Raven and Starfire were more than qualified to handle the battle taking place on the other side of the room—but it was nothing more than a distraction.

A distraction that Beast Boy was going to make the most of.

Between one step and the next, he wrapped himself in the thick, gray armor of a rhinoceros, savoring the way the ground rumbled beneath his feet. The adrenaline coursing through his veins rendered the growing pain irrelevant. He lurched forward, skewering one of the androids on his massive horn and flinging it into the air like a rag doll. A stack of boxes tumbled to the ground like bowling pins. Glass shattered. Wires sparked. He plowed through the horde effortlessly, a living, breathing battering ram. No room for hesitation. No room for the hot, twisting pain in his shoulder rising to a crescendo. No room for the voice that told him to stop, stop, stop!

Somewhere in the distance, someone was yelling. He had the distinct feeling they were yelling at him.

It was the last thing he heard before his arm seized. Before the world slipped out from under him—and he went barreling head-first into the wall.

Pain ripped through his body. The ground wavered beneath his feet. When he fell backwards, his horn took a chunk of the wall with it, raining shards of broken tile on his head. By the time he hit the floor, the raging beast had disappeared altogether, replaced by the shadow of a human too weak to control it.

A long metal staff hovered above him. With a shake, blue sparks crackled to life at the end of it.

Knowing what came next didn’t make things any easier.

The scream that erupted through the air didn’t feel like it belonged to him. Every muscle in his body clenched, the tension snapping like a slingshot as the weapon struck home. Agonizing pain rippled through every nerve, tearing through the very fabric of his being. Fingers twitched and limbs jerked completely out of his control. His vision was a curtain of black static, his body nothing more than a hazy afterimage tethered to the heart beating wildly behind his ribs. His arm screamed. His chest ached. Every inch of his body hurt like hell.

By all accounts, it should have been a lethal blow.

Maybe it had been.

As the world faded from view, he became distantly aware of a collective presence looming over him—the weight of more shadows circling his lifeless body as the darkness grabbed hold. He tried and failed to open his eyes, each shaking breath strangled by the concentrated effort. A sharp ringing flooded his ears, the muffled sounds around him drowned out by the reverberating peal.

Until a deafening crash cut through the silence like a hot knife.

More yelling. More words muddled through the thick fog of pain. Like wet clay, they slowly melded into shapes and ideas. Closer. Sharper. Threatening to rip right through the veil of shadow and tear him to pieces. He was too tired to care how or why they made it through when nothing else did.

Get up, you idiot.

He wasn’t sure he could get up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Get. Up.

He tried to turn away. Sleep—all he wanted was to go to sleep.

Darkness wrapped around him. But it wasn’t cold or cruel or lonely in the way he expected it to be. It was strangely pleasant. Strangely sweet, feeling nothing after feeling far too much. He sank into its embrace effortlessly. He didn’t mind that he couldn’t hear the words anymore. Didn’t mind the silence in his mind.

Even as the rest of the world fell apart around him.

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