Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 457: Angry Raven

"Garth, you've finally killed me."

Groundhog lay there looking half-dead, clutching his belly as if he'd been shot, dragging himself with one elbow, barely propping himself up against the spaceship wall.

Beast Boy Garth had always suspected that Garth was trying to laugh them to death and then inherit their teammates' legacies.

Today, Garth had finally succeeded.

He felt like his intestines had snapped into pieces, his breathing grew labored, and his brain spun with dizziness—all from a lack of oxygen.

"I—" Garth's face flushed red. He glanced at Groundhog-mode Garth, then at the hopeful eyes of the aliens nearby, overwhelmed with shame.

Groundhog raised a paw, stopping him from saying more.

"Don't talk, Garth. You've won. Under my bed, there's an iron box. Inside are the seaweed crackers I've hoarded for ten years. Take them—they're all yours."

Raven began secretly preparing her magic. The enemies were clustered now, and everyone was distracted. She was about to unleash an area-of-effect spell.

Meanwhile, Donna stayed vigilant. As Garth refused to eat the mess, the Sea Clan across from them started growing restless.

"Cough, cough." Garth mimicked a dying act, though he didn't need to fake it—uncontrollable laughter had already made breathing a struggle. "Also, tell Nightwing that the one who put a bat in his underwear last time? It really wasn't me."

"You—" Garth's face turned even redder, his beard unable to hide the flush.

Beast Boy wasn't done. Having delivered his 'last words,' he ignored Garth and turned to Cyborg.

"I'm about to die. Before I go, will you agree to a date with me?"

Cyborg, fully encased in metallic armor, kept a cold face beneath her helmet, her heart unmoved.

Playing house in front of the enemy? Garth caused this mess, and now Garth was playing dead. Hmph. Men.

"I refuse. You're too childish. Get up now and prepare to fight."

Rejected, Garth clutched his chest, tilted his eyes, and stuck out his tongue. He was dead.

Unless Cyborg gave him a hug, he'd stay down.

If Cyborg wouldn't, Donna would do. If not Donna, then Raven. If none of them would, any pretty girl from the Justice League would suffice.

A young, pretty girl—or one who looked youthful.

Sigh, I, Garth, am just too handsome and funny, always catching the girls' eyes. Truly a sinfully charming man.

Still fake-dead with his eyes closed, Garth lingered in his fantasies.

The three girls on the team completely ignored him.

"Tentacle Pool!"

Raven waved her hand, casting her spell. A mass of shadowy, granular energy tentacles erupted from beneath the enemies' feet, forming an impassable swamp.

Any foe caught within was torn apart by the tentacles, screaming in agony.

Her power stemmed from the bloodline of the demon Trigon, much like Hell magic.

Aside from some fire spells, most of her abilities were shadow-based, giving her magic a purplish-black hue.

Donna, trained by Deathstroke, had learned plenty—like not wasting words when the enemy was stunned, just striking instead.

Like Abra Kadabra, she never called out spell names, since she rarely teamed up. Warriors fought upfront, and if they couldn't dodge magic from behind, they weren't worthy fighters.

So she cast spells casually. Deathstroke, a combat master, dodged effortlessly, syncing perfectly, brushing past deadly magic unscathed.

Raven, though, was a 'domesticated' sorceress. She shouted skill names after casting, warning teammates to dodge splash damage or clear the path.

It had pros and cons.

The upside? Teammates didn't have to fear a fireball suddenly scorching their hair from behind.

The downside? It tipped off the enemy too.

The aliens, previously spectating, instantly noticed a purple energy orb hurtling toward them.

They dodged its landing spot, but the energy sank into the floor, sprouting a tangle of tentacles that trapped some of them.

Others escaped in time.

Donna and Cyborg charged in. The rest was warrior work—intercepting foes and keeping Raven from overcasting.

Raven's power was dangerous. Trigon could influence her at any moment, driving her mad, like a humanoid magic nuke.

Garth watched the mess on the floor vanish, breathing a slight sigh of relief. Looked like that Chapter was closed.

No evidence left, after all.

He planned to help Garth up so they could join the fight.

But as he bent down by the wall, Garth's 'corpse' suddenly slid away, slipping out of his grasp with a whoosh.

Garth narrowed his eyes, visibly annoyed.

Then again, it was his fault to begin with. He huffed through his nose, shook his head, stepped forward, and bent down again.

Whoosh.

Beast Boy's 'corpse' slid a few more steps.

Peeking and seeing Garth coming to grab him, Garth's heart said no. Only a pretty girl could hold him—he didn't want a burly, bearded guy like Garth.

So he dodged.

Garth got more irritated. He quickened his pace, bent down!

Whoosh.

Fine, I'll catch you!

He ran, he grabbed!

Whoosh.

And so, the scene unfolded: a bearded brute bending over like he was picking mushrooms, a green Groundhog zipping across the floor.

It turned into a game of tag. That green blur darted everywhere—walls, ceiling, you name it. Who'd ever seen a 'corpse' like that?

Garth forgot his original goal. Now, all he wanted was to catch Garth and shove those decade-old crackers into his mouth.

Naturally, their antics made the girls see them as even more immature.

Was this a game for the battlefield?

"Sigh, if only we could roll with the Justice League instead," Cyborg muttered, smashing fishmen heads with her dual warhammers.

At least Green Lantern, the least reliable-looking Leaguer, wouldn't goof off with teammates mid-fight, right?

Raven, expressionless, followed behind with both hands wielding magic, quipping, "Good rejection. At first, I thought Beast Boy just wanted a girlfriend. Then I realized he's asked out every girl he's met. Not only is he childish, he's a player."

Donna led the charge, beheading enemies or smashing their skulls with her shield. "He never tried me, but I think it's because he's scared of Amazons. Actually, my niece Cassie got hit on by him once."

"He probably didn't know Cassie's a demigod then. Soul Reave!"

Raven flung her spell, black magic particles ensnaring foes, ripping their souls out as she snarked again.

"Yeah, he figured it out after Cassie punched him into the ground."

Donna grinned. Cassie was young, not even seventeen. Her combat skills were average, but her strength and gear made her peerless among peers.

That thought hit Donna suddenly—she wasn't so young anymore. She was a Titan, not a Teen Titan.

The current Teen Titans were a new squad, with Batman and Superman's sons. That was the real next generation.

"Anyway, since Nightwing got badly injured and left, I think the Titans are done for."

Raven glanced at the two boys still playing tag, sighed, and kept pace with the female warriors, finishing off barely-alive fishmen.

"Donna, can you talk to your sister for me? Get me into the Justice League Dark?"

"Wait, what if Nightwing comes back?" Cyborg countered.

"Nightwing's hurt bad this time. Brain damage. Even the League can't fix it," Raven shared what she knew. "He's awake now. Doctor Mid-Nite patched his physical wounds with a butter knife and some toothpicks, but the brain—or soul—is beyond Mid-Nite's reach."

"Hm? What's it like? Maybe I can brainstorm something," Cyborg said. She didn't know medicine, but she believed physics could solve anything.

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Donna carved through the enemy line, mopping up wounded fishmen. This was a covert op.

Kill all witnesses—that's strict secrecy, per Deathstroke's teachings. "Nightwing's got amnesia, or his soul's scrambled. He thinks he's a forty-year-old Arab guy, a taxi driver from Paris, France."

"Hiss."

Cyborg sucked in a breath. What the hell?

Raven added more, since Donna's gasp came too soon. "It's worse. He only speaks Arabic and a bit of basic French. Communication's a mess. He freaks out at anyone in tights or masks. When I probed him with magic, he cried, called me a monster, and chased me out of his room with a pillow."

Her probe worked, though. The soul in Nightwing's body wasn't his anymore. She'd never seen anything like it.

Donna nodded. Like Rachel said, Nightwing didn't recognize anyone.

"In short, we can't tell if he's still him—or even if he's still a good guy."

That was a big problem. Cyborg's mouth twitched downward, dropping her offer to help.

Physics couldn't fix this. Electroshock for Nightwing? Nope.

They could only hope he'd recover his memory someday, but that day was far off. Even Batman was stumped, handing the Bat-Family reins to Barbara.

"So, seeing the boys like this, I've given up hope."

Raven pulled her hood tighter, shadowing her forehead, leaving only her big eyes visible.

"Donna, you could join the Science Squad—full of science nuts, you'd fit right in. I'll go to Justice League Dark for other sorcerers. Donna, you hit up the Justice League for mature, reliable teammates. Let Garth and Garth play by themselves!"

But Donna knew Rachel was just venting. She still wanted to stay with the team—otherwise, with her power, she'd have joined Justice League Dark already.

The Titans had the strongest sorceress. In raw spell damage, Constantine and Zatanna couldn't touch Rachel.

Raven once flattened 3,000 demon troops with one spell—something no other League mage could pull off.

Still, she was young, emotional, loved snarking and making faces, and had a soft spot for bad puns.

"How about we hire someone to lead the team temporarily?"

Speaking of bad puns, Donna remembered a guy—his wing-roasting quips for Barry were ice-cold.

That man rivaled Batman as a tactician, could beat a full-power Wonder Woman with the right plan, had wide connections, and knew a ton. Rachel would get along with him.

"Hire someone? Batman wouldn't let us bring in an outsider," Raven said, making air quotes with her fingers. "Anyone joining the League or its teams has to pass his 'test.'"

"Not him. Batman can't touch him."

Donna recalled Deathstroke casually cutting off Batman's comms, making Batman look like a summoned errand boy.

And yet, the hiring worked the other way around.

Rachel was sharp. She knew who it was. That party where Witchfire nearly burned her alive? She was there. Last night, when Tracey and Nightshade beat Witchfire down, she watched.

Her eyes widened, staring at Donna like she was a stranger.

"Are you insane? Deathstroke leading the Titans? Even temporarily? I'd quit for real."

"Oh, come on, he's not the old geezer we fought before. He's decent—a great warrior, mature too."

Donna glanced back at the two boys, left far behind, and pursed her lips.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. Donna was acting weird. Something had happened that she didn't know about.