Disclaimer- Does anyone believe I own this?
Ages- Beast Boy, Rave, Starfire- 17, Robin- 18, Cyborg- 19
This is my first Teen Titans fanfiction, I hope you enjoy.
The night was cold and the streets were quiet. Beast Boy pulled his arms around his body in an attempt to find more warmth as he continued his trek down the foreboding streets of Jump City. It was nearing the middle of October and the weather had just started to turn sour. Every surface within sight was brushed with a thin layer of new frost. The streets and sidewalks glistened and sparkled under the glow of the streetlights guiding Beast Boy's way.
His breath rolled out of his mouth like the smoke of a cigar, rising up and melting into the sky. Out at night, alone like this, he would never change into a bird or a bug or any other kind of winged beast. True, flying was incredible, but walking the darkened streets, the sound of heavy traffic from the highway in the distance piercing what would be a quiet night, crooks and bums leering out at him, prostitutes winking and beckoning him closer, somehow made him feel… important, maybe even strong or brave. He didn't have to be out here among all this, but he chose to be. He liked to think that someone might gasp and say, "You were outside at night? By yourself!" And he could shrug and tell them, "yeah, no big deal."
It was near midnight and there were no more than a handful of people out on the streets, but Beast Boy was starting to get that feeling again, like someone might be watching him. The scratching at the back of his brain that was telling him to beware, be on guard, had translated itself into physical feelings and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his skin began to feel hot and tingly. On the very edge of his vision he spotted a smudged shape move quickly and disappear. He didn't bother to look, he knew that it wouldn't be there anymore when he did. "Okay, calm down," he told himself, "you're just imagining things. There is no incredibly ferocious monster after your blood following you." His eyes went wide at the thought of the monster and he wished to hell he hadn't just said that.
An involuntary shiver ran down our green friend's spine as he pushed a lock of emerald hair out of his eyes. Much had changed in the years following Terra's incarceration in stone. All of the Titans had changed in some way, and Beast Boy was no exception. He had grown nearly half a foot, a fact he made sure to point out to everyone (although, how could they have missed it?). He had filled out some and was no longer skinny, but instead gave off a lean, muscular look. His facial features had changed from boyishly cute to, well, a more mature cuteness. He had allowed his hair to grow out to just over his ears, and used it almost like a security blanket, covering his eyes with his bangs when embarrassed, ashamed, or scared, and pushing the tendrils out of the way when he felt confident or brave. His attitude and behavior had changed very little. He was still the laid back and care free member of the team, but he had even matured in these aspects of his life as well. His jokes were more though out, witty, and sometimes, to Raven's chagrin, more sarcastic. He had become a more thoughtful person, perhaps even a little more reserved, but was basically the same old Beast Boy. His voice had changed only slightly, deepening somewhat, but still had a grating edge to it that seemed to get on some people's nerves after long exposure, and Beast Boy was thankful that the Titans had gotten used to it over the years. He had grown out of his Doom Patrol costume long ago and had switched to a more updated version. This one was similar but was completely sleeveless, and the color scheme was black and blue.
Beast Boy was, at the moment, out of uniform. He was dressed as a civilian in jeans, a band t-shirt, a black hooded sweatshirt to conceal his face, and sneakers, and had wrapped himself in a dark jacket that seemed to be doing a good job at keeping out the biting cold.
"Spare some change?" A voice croaked out to Beast Boy's right. He turned slowly and was met with a pair of dead, grey eyes. Eyes like fish. They belonged to a man wrapped in a thick blanket. Though it was hard to tell through the fabric, he looked emaciated and near death. His white hair puffed like a corona about his head, and his hand, bare and shaking, reached out to Beast Boy.
"Uh, yeah, sure." Beast Boy quickly went through his pockets and found a handful of change. It was mostly pennies, but there was some more valuable currency mixed in. He showered the metal into the old man's quaking hand and watched a smile rip across his wrinkled face.
"You are an angel, sir," the old man nodded to Beast Boy, joyous with the small offering of pocket change. Beast Boy bowed his head low and smiled a bit.
"I don't know about that," he said, turning from the man, "every day I feel more like a devil." And he did. He could feel it, down inside him, threatening to tear up out of him and destroy what he had made for himself. The Beast. That's what it was called, and truly what it was. It no longer seemed content to sit at the very bottom of the teen's being. It seemed to want to burst forth and be known. It was the reason Beast Boy's feet were carrying him where they were.
"I'm gonna need to see some I.D., sir." The doorman at The Black Bird Bar (the owners seemed to have thing for alliteration) was a hulking man, threatening in every way imaginable. He was as big wide as he was tall, and damn was he tall. His mouth was twisted into a frown and his eyes seemed to pierce straight through one's soul.
"It's me, Mike." Beast Boy tilted his head up and let the light above the doorman's head flood into his hood. Instantly Mike's expression softened.
"You're back again, Mr. Logan?" He asked. He shook his head sadly and his voice softened even more, picking up and holding onto a sad edge that seemed to give his speech a hesitance. "You were here just two nights ago. These visits seem to be getting more and more frequent."
"Yeah, so?" Beast Boy asked angrily, but still keeping his voice low. "This is just something I need, okay? And I told you, my name is Garfield." Mike stared straight into Beast Boy's eyes and the Titan felt his insides mashing up as he forced himself to stare right back. Beast Boy had gotten to know Mike after the teen had saved him from a falling piece of building some time ago in one the Titan's many battles. It seems that a guy will do nearly anything for you once you have kept them from dying, and Beast Boy used that to his advantage when he found out that the man was a bouncer at this bar.
The long silence between the two continued to grow bigger and bigger. Finally Beast Boy spoke, "are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to find another bar?" Mike closed his eyes for a moment before sighing and opening the door.
"Go on in," he said, holding it open for Beast Boy, "just remember, I'll always be here if you need me."
"Thanks, Mike, I'll remember that," Beast Boy said, disappearing into the darkness of the bar, pulling his hood down farther to better hide his face.
The noise of the bar was wonderful. It was a mixture of people speaking and glasses clanging, and was backed by strange electronica music that was kept at a surprisingly low level for the time being (There seemed not to be any live entertainment tonight). The clamor around him was loud, but not too loud. It was a dull noise too, not a single word could be picked out of it. It was just a wave of sound that smashed into and rolled off Beast Boy's body. In a strange way it made him feel safe. He had always hated silence so much. It made him feel lonely, and his greatest fear was to be alone.
As he crossed the room toward the bar, he could feel eyes washing over him. His face was hidden under a hood, which only lent him an air of mysteriousness, but it was obvious he had a very nice body, and people couldn't help but stare. Beast Boy didn't really mind, but it did make him feel slightly uncomfortable. It also made him feel paranoid that maybe it was his green skin they were staring at, and he did his best to pull his hands, his only exposed flesh, further into the sleeves of his coat.
"What can I get for you, Sugar?" Rosalita was the bartender at The Black Bird Bar, and seemed to enjoy giving everyone the nickname of sugar, no matter their gender. Beast Boy sometimes suspected that she was just bad at remembering people. He had, on the very first night he came here, told her his name, and she had forgotten it on the next visit. How hard is it to remember a pointy eared, green skinned person anyway? He had not taken such precautions to cover up his identity on those first trips as he did now. It became too much of a hassle when people recognized him. All he wanted to do was be left alone, sit, and drink.
"Just bring me a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass," he said, pushing a wad of money across the bar. Rosalita nodded and left for a moment, returning with the requested items.
"Here you go, Sugar." She set the bottle of Jim Beam and the tiny glass down in front of him and, much to Beast Boy's dismay, did not leave. She placed her hands down on the bar in front of her and leaned forward, a smile thick with red, waxy lipstick stuck to her makeup splashed face. She really needed to go easier on the cosmetics, she had quite a pleasant face that only suffered when she drowned it in so much color. "What's the matter, Sugar?" She asked, "You seem kind of sad. Want to talk about it?"
"Not really." Beast Boy tilted the bottle of whiskey over and let the beautiful amber liquid pour into the shot glass that sat in front of him. He had been quite rude to Rosalita, but for some reason she still had not left. Normally there were many more people at the bar, and the girl was never able to sit and chat, but tonight she seemed to have some free time and it was just Beast Boy's luck that she would decide to spend it with him.
"Are you sure you don't have anything to say?" Rosalita pushed, lowering her head to try and get a better look at this stranger's face. Beast Boy said nothing, his hand tightening on the shot glass, but he had yet to take a drink. "Come on, Sugar, I'm a real good listener."
"Leave me alone NOW," Beast Boy erupted, his voice dripping with poison. Rosalita froze. She was suddenly able to see his face. His eyes were glowing with an intense hatred and his features seemed to be twisting into something quite beastly. The poor bartender gasped and pulled back. She ran to the restroom, ranting about hallucinations. Beast Boy's hand went to his face. 'I nearly changed into… it,' he thought, his face slowly going back to normal. 'I have to get this under control.' He looked down at his hand and saw that he had squeezed the shot glass hard enough to break it during his outburst. Thick drops of crimson blood trickled from between his fingers and onto the stained wood of the bar, pooling into an unidentifiable shape. "Shit," Beast Boy muttered. He let go of the broken glass and reached for the bottle of Jim Beam. Taking a deep breath, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long swig. He cringed at the awful taste and let the fire trickle down his throat. After he swallowed he felt his face go completely back to the way it was supposed to be. The alcohol was drowning that thing down inside him, helping him keep his control. "Oh, God," he muttered at the feeling it left in his mouth, it was sterile and sharp. He took another deep breath, and it was followed by another trail of fire flowing down his throat, and then another, and another, drink after drink after drink.