Storm the Castle
folder
DC Verse Cartoons - Teen Titans › Het › Beast Boy/Raven
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,343
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DC Verse Cartoons - Teen Titans › Het › Beast Boy/Raven
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,343
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Teen Titans or make money from this story.
Chapter 4
Beast Boy awoke, his head throbbing, much as he had the last week. It had been seven days since his defeat, and still he ached. The news of Raven's death barely seemed to regigster with him. 'Probably cause she's been as good as dead all this time.' In fact, it was almost a relief to have closure. He still slept her room, though the once comforting room now felt so forgein. The latent magic that was infused in the walls, impregnating the room with all the emotions she had denied herself, were now gone, used to fuel Beast Boy's futile rescue attempt. He rolled over in her bed and stared at the wall.
Finally, sick of this room, and the tower, he got up, and went for his room. He grabbed the few things he had that were important and he left the Tower, unable to stay there. He left Jump City, he left the State, he left the country. Unsure of where he was going, he just had to go.
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6 Months Later- Shanghai, China
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The small shop smelled of inscence, the elderly man sitting behind the counter. Only one man was in his store, a strange hooded man, who was holding a small figurine. It was of a cloaked figure, few knowing even what they were. But the way the young man held it, told the elderly gentleman he not only knew what it was, but had some ties to the Azerathian people. That particular statue was one of thier youth, dress in the traditional hooded cloak. The man held it lovingly, and daydreamed.
As the shop owner watched him, he was unaware of the gang of men who entered his shop. "Hands up, old man," they shouted in Chinese. "Give us your money." The elder man reached for the cash regigster, when someone punched the teen holding the gun. It was the hodded figure, but his face could be seen. His green face. "The demon of Shanghai!" One of the teens yelled, running. The rest followed suit, except for one, who stood, anchored to the ground. "You should run," the green man said, in perfect Cantonese. The gun wielder, fear struck, just started firing. Five shots were duds in his revolver, the people he bought it from not worth much as gun smiths. But one bullet rang true, hitting the man in the stomach. The gunman ran off, and the elderly man ran to the shot "Demon" and applied pressure to the wound. The green man's purple eyes fluttered back in his head, and as he passed out, he whispered, "Raven."
Finally, sick of this room, and the tower, he got up, and went for his room. He grabbed the few things he had that were important and he left the Tower, unable to stay there. He left Jump City, he left the State, he left the country. Unsure of where he was going, he just had to go.
--------------------------------------
6 Months Later- Shanghai, China
--------------------------------------
The small shop smelled of inscence, the elderly man sitting behind the counter. Only one man was in his store, a strange hooded man, who was holding a small figurine. It was of a cloaked figure, few knowing even what they were. But the way the young man held it, told the elderly gentleman he not only knew what it was, but had some ties to the Azerathian people. That particular statue was one of thier youth, dress in the traditional hooded cloak. The man held it lovingly, and daydreamed.
As the shop owner watched him, he was unaware of the gang of men who entered his shop. "Hands up, old man," they shouted in Chinese. "Give us your money." The elder man reached for the cash regigster, when someone punched the teen holding the gun. It was the hodded figure, but his face could be seen. His green face. "The demon of Shanghai!" One of the teens yelled, running. The rest followed suit, except for one, who stood, anchored to the ground. "You should run," the green man said, in perfect Cantonese. The gun wielder, fear struck, just started firing. Five shots were duds in his revolver, the people he bought it from not worth much as gun smiths. But one bullet rang true, hitting the man in the stomach. The gunman ran off, and the elderly man ran to the shot "Demon" and applied pressure to the wound. The green man's purple eyes fluttered back in his head, and as he passed out, he whispered, "Raven."