Teen Titans: Hallowed be Thy Name

He didn’t like being without his uniform…he felt more naked without it. It had become such an integral part of who he was, but…well, being in such attire would have drawn too much attention to himself, and he was trying to lay low while waiting for his contact. Mr. Remiel was supposed to be meeting with him to discuss a recent string of rather horrifying public suicides, and to do a stake-out. The victims had all had one thing in common, and this was a popular hangout for their breed. And why not? The Teleportal Station was a necessity for people on the “Patronage”, an enormous collection of ships and space stations that were presently orbiting Earth III. And he was certain he’d find-

What? Don’t look at me like that! It wasn’t profiling. It was caution. Every single victim was of different ages, different appearances, different jobs, different friends, different skills, different EVERYTHING but for ONE single aspect.

All of them were angels.

Some might have called this outrageous. Unbelievable. But Dick Grayson, Robin, had worked with Batman for years. There was little Batman didn’t believe in, and by extension, Robin. He’d worked with aliens. A half-demonic magician. A cyborg.

So ANGELS? Yeah. Must have been Tuesday.

Not that they LOOKED it. He wasn’t sure how to define it at first but it came quickly as he glanced around the Teleportal station. He’d expected giant, sweeping wings, big titans that strode about the pale blue walls and floors of the Teleportal station, tiny twinkling stars visible in the special transparent aluminum roof above as banners representing major factions of “Patrons” hung about. From the Americas to Europe to Asia, every country had beings of mythological or metaphysical origin, and they sought only to better their respective people in some way. And none were more numerous than the Patrons known as the Angels, representative of the biggest Monotheistic faith in the world. Respected by Christians, Jews and Muslims alike, the Angels were charity workers, warriors and guardians.

But there was something about them…yes. The “Uncanny Valley”. They looked human enough, yet when you stared at them it felt as though they lacked a certain quality humans had. It might have had something to do with the fact that all the angels had physical bodies of metal, bound to be “robots”, advanced androids, the only way they could walk among the mortals without their true form being so great and terrible it would burn your very flesh to get too close. Their skin perhaps too without blemish, their clothes too smooth, TOO…clean. That was it. The angels were too “clean” in their appearance.

Even the bushy-beared fat-looking one sipping on a root beer next to him at the snack stand looked somehow too…clean. Every particle of his beard was too neatly brushed and his eyes had too much light to them. Too good to be true, that was the problem. The bearded angel put the drink down, glancing at Robin. “Mind telling me the time?” He asked. “I don’t have a watch.”

Robin looked over the watch around his wrist. “9:30.” He remarked crisply.

“Appreciate it.” The angel said. “The name’s “Diggs”. Think you could do me a favor?”

Robin raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Yes, what?” He wanted to know as the man nervously glanced left and right.

“You, uh…know any cops?”

“Yes. Some of my best friends are cops.” Robin said. It wasn’t a lie. Not really…but he had to keep this guy talking. The stakeout had evidently paid off, if the angel was saying what he thought he was…

“Listen, I need you to get the cops. There’s a bomb that my friend placed here in the Teleportal station. I wanna get everyone out of here. Don’t want anybody ending up like that cafeteria from last week…” Diggs said with a shudder as Robin nodded in agreement.

“It was a horrible tragedy.” He admitted, thinking back to when he and Staccato had examined the crime scene…chunks everywhere, stepping into milky blood, people being scraped off the walls-

“Thanks.” Diggs said, getting up and walking over to a small portion of the teleportal station hall, sitting down on a bench by one of the many teleportals as Robin quickly flipped open his “Titans Communicator”, dialing the circular phone up.

“Mr. Remiel, we have a problem, an angel just informed me a bomb’s in the teleportal station. I’m going to go frisk him.”

“Wha-NO! Do NOT frisk him. I see him, he’s the one with the beard, correct?” Staccato inquired.

“You’re here?” Robin asked, eyes widening behind his sunglasses, standing swiftly up and glancing around the room, seeing Staccato wave at him from a nearby doorway. “Get everyone out of there IMMEDIATELY and do not approach him! If you touch him, it’ll go off.”

“What?” Robin asked as he glanced over at Diggs on the bench, Diggs opening up the jacket he was wearing, tossing it to the side…then beginning to take off his shirt. “Oh no.” He murmured. Almost no time…

He quickly held up his Titans Communicator, pressing a button on the side as a loud, grating screeching noise filled the air, everyone in the Teleportal station covering their ears and turning to him. “I’M WITH THE TEEN TITANS! EVERYONE NEEDS TO IMMEDIATELY GET OUT OF HERE, WE HAVE A BOMB!” He roared out, Diggs stripping his shirt off…

Tattoos beginning to spread across his body like a strange vine as everyone saw what he as staring at and IMMEDIATELY began running away, Diggs placing his hands together and bowing his head.

“Barukh ata Adonai…” He murmured.

And then he exploded in a horrific blaze of light and fire, the bench being evaporated as pieces of his form went flying, a terrifying, screeching, wailing howl ripping into the air as the shockwave of the bomb sent people flying, Robin flopping to the ground but quickly leaping back up, gazing at the scene before him. Nobody else was hurt, thankfully, but the foul smell of sulphur stung like daggers in his nostrils as people struggled to their feet, looking at the pulped and smoking remains of the angel. Milk had pooled around what remained of the bioroid, his “true” self slightly exposed in death…it hurt to look at this, something inside Robin felt the urge to vomit rise up. His very soul was reacting in disgust to this, as if something precious and of incredible value had been forcibly ripped from the world’s grasp…

“Another suicide bomber…” Staccato Remiel murmured, walking over to Robin, his brown hair flopping slightly as he folded his arms over his chest, his shining green eyes turning sad and steely as he slowly closed his eyelids and pinched the space between his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. “…did…did you catch a name?”

“He said it was “Diggs”.” Robin informed Staccato, who drew in a harsh breath.

“Ol’ Diggs…” Staccato sighed. “His real name’s been so lost to history even HE doesn’t know it. I…I should know his face. I should know all their faces…we’re all brothers and sisters of our Father’s crafting…”

“Michael’s going to be upset about this. He was hoping that them being angels was a coincidence.” Robin added with a nod as Staccato began making a call of his own on his arm’s built-in communicator, Robin slightly biting his lip as he looked up into Staccato’s face, past the mask that covered his eyes, ignoring the majestic emerald and gold and silver armor over his form, trying to only see a person, not some distant, metaphysical being. “Mister Rem-Staccato. Why do you believe they’re doing this?”

“Out of faith, Robin…and Hope.”

“…WHAT?”

…

…

…

… “You gotta be KIDDING me.”

The talking heads on TV were screeching at each other as four angels stood together in a large warehouse, glaring at the vid-screen on the wall as Raven of the Teen Titans hovered in a large box of supplies alongside her, her dark blue cape sweeping slightly as she looked at the vid-screen in disgust. “Oh, how typical. Assign blame first and don’t give any thought to anything else.” She muttered. “Typical pundits. Lemme guess. Their first suggestion was to immediately blame your Father?”

“Even though killing innocents has been expressly forbidden since EVER.” The long, oddly beautiful male angel muttered, his dark black hair slightly obscuring his vision as he pushed it to the side, deep blue armor covering his form as his muscular and well-toned bald friend stood nearby in silence, taking it in.

“Mercifully there’s no death toll.” One of the pundits admitted with a nod, his tentacle hair bobbing about in the studio. “…save for the kamikaze. But I feel the need to ask why there’s been NO demands of any kind at all. This lack of any response is just so typical with this kind of terrorism.”

“Indeed, I can’t help but question the motives of these insane murderers.” A Plooskian pundit intoned, droning on and on.  “How utterly barbaric.”

“You…freaking…idiots.” The bald angel snarled out, slamming his fist so hard into the wall it punched clear through, two other angels, both female, glancing at this as the white-haired one raised a slightly thick set of eyebrows up in surprise, her soft-faced friend cringing a bit before speaking up.

“Feel any better, Malachi?” She inquired gently.

“…no, Ruth, I don’t. But in my defense…this is a lousy wall.” Malachi mumbled as the white-haired Sara removed the hand as carefully as she could, the long-haired raven angel cringing as Raven walked up to him…or rather, floated over. She liked to float.

“Is it truly so difficult for them to understand, Raven?” Gabriel inquired.

“For the majority of the convoy’s inhabitants, yes. They don’t know about the conditions of your race, how you’ve been failed by the Earth’s governments.” Raven intoned as Sara threw her hands in the air.

“They don’t want to open their eyes to our situation, Raven. We’re willing to talk. But nobody is listening.”

“Do they think my people are blowing ourselves to Kingdom Come for FUNSIES?!” Malachi snarled. “I mean COME OOONNN!”

“I’m almost tempted to stick explosives in the Council’s chambers myself.” Ruth shamefully admitted, bowing her head and quickly kissing the small Star of David around her neck, shaking her head back and forth. “They weep for the victims, spend millions on trying to get even with us or repair damages but don’t devote a single minute to trying to understand what FORCES us to do this!”

“Because it isn’t their problem.” Raven admitted with a shrug. “We need to make them care. But taking innocent lives, threatening them, that ISN’T the way…now come on.” She said, pointing at the boxes she’d just brought in. “I need some help bringing this Mythrilite to Sector A.”

“…yes, of course.” Gabriel admitted quietly. “It’s not their problem.”

But I know how to make them notice. I know how to MAKE it their problem…

…

…

…

… “What did you mean by “hope and faith”?” Robin wanted to know, the security forces of the Patronage examining the crime scene and the body as Michael of the Archangels looked Diggs over personally, cringing as he shook his head back and forth, one hand holding his head as he bit into his lip so hard Robin could see milk pouring down from it.

Staccato flinched a bit as he looked over at the many onlookers who were watching the scene. Many of them were patrons of various other faiths…he could see the hardier patrons of the bitter lands that the Vikings had called home standing near, Thor murmuring into Baldur’s ear, whilst the soft-spoken patrons of India were writing down on little notepads they’d brought…it helped that they had so many ARMS. The Lord of the Dreamtime TOWERED high above them all, his serpentine form glancing down at the chunky pieces of angel below, visible disgust in his eyes, along with a deep, quiet sadness.

“Tell me something, Robin…do you know what Patrons really live on? It isn’t food, it isn’t drink…” Michael spoke up quietly, everyone else suddenly shutting up as Michael reached down, closing Digg’s eyes, most of his head still intact as he stood up, purple hair matted with sweat, eyes brimming with tears he wiped on his arm. “It’s spiritual, Robin. What appeals to the soul through deed and action and proper words…”

“Oh no.” The Lord of the Dreamtime murmured, eyes bugging out, mouth slightly agape.

“Michael, come on, you can’t blame this on us.” Thor spoke  up, his moustache twitching as he folded his muscular arms before the chain mail he wore across his beefy chest. “It isn’t OUR leaders-”

“Therein is the problem. “Our” leaders. ‘Our’ problem. “THEIR” problem. We are all in this together. We’ve forgotten that, or rather…you’ve forgotten that.” Michael remarked. His voice becoming soft. Soft…with an edge. “I’m the Judgment of the Major Arcana. Leader of the Archangels. You…will mark me.” He demanded, pointing at Thor as all of the assembled people watching glanced at each other…but stopped murmuring and muttering to themselves as Staccato and Robin looked at Michael.

“Sir, what’s this about?” Robin wanted to know, raising an eyebrow in the air.

“You know I’m a responsible person. I absolutely disagree with ANY suicide bombers who’ve ended up killing innocents. “Thou shalt not murder” is one of the firmest, most absolute tenets we’re to follow in our teachings. A teaching so black and white, so simple yet still so utterly botched. One of the few things those on Earth actually got completely right in their records of our Father’s will, and yet to this day so many still completely ignore…my own race tragically included. I can’t stand it anymore. It has to be stopped.” Michael went on, his voice commanding attention, now deep and powerful, ringing through the air like a bell as he put a hand on his chest, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Robin thought out loud as Michael bowed his head in shame.

“I’m to act as a shining symbol, a proper guide to ensure my people follow my example. I’ve done all I can…but this is not enough. As such, I intend to make this right. I can’t do any more but this. The rest falls upon others. Any power I have comes from far beyond, and I’ve used it well. Now it comes time for others to use what they have for the greater good.  I wish to attract attention to the horrible conditions my people suffer from. To remind you all that the survival of the millions of my race is not just to be forgotten about like some…some STUPID commercial on television!” He proclaimed, hands going up to his chest, ripping it open…revealing tattoos spreading across his body as he held up a hand and snapped his fingers, a bubble encasing his form as Robin and Staccato rushed forward to try and break inside, to stop it…

“NO!” Staccato screeched out. “MICHAEL, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”

“Barukh ata Adonai…” Michael whispered, eyes closing.

And with that…

…he too was gone.

…

…

…

… “I don’t get it.”

Staccato had his head in his hands and was sitting in his private office in his ship as Robin sat across from him at the desk, one leg over the other, arms folded across his chest as he shook his head back and forth. “Hope and faith? Committing suicide so coldly is done in the name of faith in something better?”

Silence. For a long…long time.

“I’m sorry, I…Michael was your best friend for so long, and…it just…it almost doesn’t seem real. You’re ANGELS, I thought you can’t die…” Robin muttered nervously. “I’ll…I’ll come back, you don’t need to do this report right now.” He offered, getting up and heading for the door, past the turned-off stand light in the shape of a giant sun-on-a-pedestal. He reached for the handle when Staccato’s voice softly whispered out from his lips…

“They…WE…have nothing to lose.” He mumbled. “The hope is our sacrifice will let others of our race have a better way of life in some way. We’re not in this to profit. We aren’t interested in Heaven. We know that Suicide’s a sin unless to save the lives of others. My friend is in Hell, Robin. Because it’s the only way they can think to get people to care about us.”

“But you’re the most numerous Patrons!” Robin said, turning around, a confused expression on his masked face as Staccato sighed, gesturing to the side wall, Robin turning to look at it as it slowly shaped and twisted about…

Photographs began to appear. All of sacrificed angels who’d committed suicide. Newspaper clippings showing the carnage again and again…and faces. So, so many faces…

“That doesn’t mean much.” Staccato said. “Our people are nourished by the good that the greatest sources of spiritual power do. Ten soup kitchens keep us barely alive, but if a bishop is misappropriating church funds, that physically sickens us. The other patrons, they aren’t nourished the way WE are…they can live off each other’s words and deeds, or off courageous and brave acts of mortals. And your planet is…well…it’s kind of distracting itself from what’s important.”

“Lots of us do PLENTY of good!” Robin protested.

“Yes…but does your kind do it because it’s RIGHT…or because you think it’s what’s EXPECTED?” Staccato softly inquired as Robin cringed a bit before folding his arms over his chest. “We’ve been trying to get the world governments to publically address such issues for months now. But the other patrons either can’t convince them or DON’T because it’s “not their problem”! They rest on their laurels and sign autographs at gyms or do cooking shoes instead of encouraging their respective nations to do good. And because we’re weaker the less and less is done, we can be affected by illnesses the others don’t notice at all. The fact is that one out of every 10 Angels is affected by the disease known as AIDS…yet are still clinging to life and working in the third world trying to accomplish something.” Staccato murmured as he walked over to the wall, taking off a photo of Michael, looking it over in his hand, shaking his head back and forth.

“Patrons can be hurt by HIV? Really?”

“We are LONG past “HIV”. We’ve got full-blown AIDS.” Staccato cringed. “We do so much work in Africa, and their unique way of having relationships makes things considerably difficult. If one person in the chain is infected, so is everyone else…”

“What about Mythrilite? That can cure it easily.” Robin wished to know, reaching up and picking up a news article about the crystalline element, Staccato shaking his head. “I take it your kind can’t afford it?”

“Maybe if we had a few movie deals with Hollywood like THOR, but-” Staccato snorted. “…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I ought not be envious of him. It’s just…frustrating.”

“I can tell. Seems everyone knows about this, but nobody’s DOING anything?” Robin inquired, looking astounded. “After all your kind has done for the Earth they can’t be bothered to just talk to...” He murmured, holding his head, looking positively flabbergasted. “I don’t understand-”

“We don’t EITHER.” A voice announced, something kicking the door open and flying through the doorway, sticking into Staccato and Robin, powerful electrical handcuffs pinning them to the wall as Gabriel entered with her friends, all carrying weapons as Gabriel sighed, shaking his head at the two. “We’re sorry for this. But we need to get people to notice. Tapping someone on the shoulder doesn’t work. You have to hit them in the face with a sledgehammer…THEN you’ve got their full attention.”

“I see.” Robin muttered. “Magnetic handcuffs, huh?”

“Very effective, as you can see.” Malachi remarked, Robin’s tongue reaching into the back of his mouth, for a specific tooth. “Now you can’t reach your toolbelt. We know that’s where you Bat-types keep all your wonderful toys-”

“Look, your friend told me all about this.” Robin remarked. “Let me go and I’ll talk to the Council, the Patronage’s ruling body will speak to the Earth’s governments and I’m sure something will get done.”

“Oh, we TRIED to schedule a meeting with your United Nations. They put us off, put us off, and then, oh YEAH! PUT US OFF.” Gabriel snapped before cringing. “Sorry. Look. We don’t want to hurt you. At all. But if we have to…we WILL.” He added, Robin noticing one of them was looking very, very pale and coughing.

“Ruth? You alright?” The other female angel inquired softly, holding “Ruth’s” hands and looking deep into her eyes, clear concern on her soft face.

“F-fine.” Ruth muttered out, holding her fist to her mouth as she coughed into it, the air hot and heavy despite the air conditioning still going on, Robin glancing around the room. He had to find an escape route and wait for his chance. They wanted him alive, clearly. So he just had to be careful and seize the moment at the right time.

“Now, let’s get to work, Malachi.” Gabriel remarked, his long hair flowing behind him as he strode over to Staccato, sighing sadly. “Stac, I’m sorry for this. But we need to use your computer to broadcast our signal across the network that connects all ships on the Patronage. At the moment, the Council will be meeting with representatives from each race the convoy’s made up of, with fellow patrons in attendance…”

“And what ARE your demands, Gabe?” Staccato inquired softly asked, his eyes steely and furious, struggling not to scream at his friend’s face as Ruth began setting up a webcam atop of the “Lenovo Thinkpad” on the archangel’s desk, coughing some more into her fist as Robin sniffed the air.

“…you’re coughing up angel blood.” Robin spoke up as Staccato’s eyes whipped over to Ruth, Malachi, Gabriel and Sara gasping. “I can smell the milk from here. It has a very distinct scent. And the fact that you’re emaciated and so pale...I take it you caught HIV?”

“Yes…my immune system was destroyed working in Malaysia, actually. I was working with Tuberculosis patients and one of them evidently had more than just…OOOGH…” Ruth managed to whimper out as Staccato’s eyes slowly widened, taking in a sharp breath as Sara held Ruth’s shoulders and Malachi cringed, biting into his lip as Gabriel looked over at Staccato.

“…do you have any blankets in here?” He wanted to know, Staccato gesturing with his head over at the closet, Gabriel opening it up and reaching atop a small dresser and pulling out a down blanket for Ruth to cover herself with as she sat down on the nearby couch, Sara sitting by her. “Is the webcam set up?”

“Y-yes.” Ruth mumbled out as Gabriel booted up the laptop…

MEANWHILE…

“Before we begin our proper session, I’d like us all to observe a moment of silence.” Raven announced as she clasped her hands together, bowing her head. “I’ve been working with the Angels for many weeks now as part of my spiritual journey, and I want to honor the passing of Archangel Michael, known to the world community as the “Judgment” of the Major Arcana, Michael Yenta Rosenberg.” The pale-skinned spellcaster intoned as she stood in the center of the council room. Golden arches held the enormous hall up, everyone else besides Raven sitting on floating rim of stone, resting themselves upon perfectly-sculpted chairs made of multiple-covered jewels.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” an illithid representative grumbled, his tentacle face growling angrily, lashing at the air as loud, angry groans and mutterings filled the council room.

“BOOO!” A Vortian representative screeched, cupping his hands around his mouth. “He KILLED HIMSELF! That is a mortal sin! Don’t venerate him!”

“Is this some kinda joke?” The male Muridean representative inquired as his female counterpart sighed. “We just look like we’re celebrating terrorism!”

“People, I implore you, a LITTLE decorum.” The Lord of the Dreamtime intoned, bowing his head, his powerful voice echoing through the starry hall as Raven nodded in agreement. “He was, after all, the chosen representative of the Angel Patrons who speak for the Monotheistic Trinity of Christianity, Judaism and Islam of Earth. As such, we should show deference and respect.”

“In other words, listen to our “better angels”.” Raven wryly remarked as she gestured at the floating vid-screen in the center of the room which was hovering before her. “You all have tiny little versions of these. As I promised the Council, I’m going to present my findings on magical portals made from silver. Due to special runes I’ve never seen carved before, the one you know as Jinx has been able to create doorways that are untraceable and-”

“Well, that’s all very nice but I’m afraid that we need to interrupt this program for a special bulletin.” Gabriel’s voice spoke up, the vid-screen flickering on and off before…POP. Her face appeared, the background obscured in darkness as she smiled at Raven. “Hello, Raven…I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.”

“GABRIEL?!” Raven gasped out, eyes bugging slightly before frowning. “…what exactly is this about? If you want to speak to Sude, he’s not in at the moment, I’m holding the council meeting to talk about what I observed in your home.”

“Correction, you’re going to talk about portals. Not what’s really happening. What’s really happening is why I’m talking to you now. Since nobody else in this convoy has been really caring besides you and a few of your friends, my race now feels the need to take extreme measures.” Gabriel informed Raven, snapping her fingers as the webcam swerved…showing Staccato and Robin tied up together, hands behind their back. “My associates and I are holding archangel Staccato and Robin of the Teen Titans hostage. And we’ll slay them if you don’t acquiesce to our demands.”

“And they’ve got a lot.” Robin admitted with a sigh. “I have to read them out now, correct?” He inquired as Gabriel nodded. “Ah-hem. “We demand an immediate distribution of Mythrilite to all sick members of our species. You can bring it to the medical camps in Africa that we’ve established.”

“You know that’s impossible. The medicine is very, very rare and consequently-” Raven began to say as Gabriel held up a hand.

“I know, it’s very expensive.” Gabriel interrupted. “Did you think I was the last one to know?! But those are the conditions. That way everyone wins.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Thor spoke up from his seat on the council rim, brow furrowed as he waved his hammer in the air. “Mythrilite doesn’t JUST affect the angels! Such an element is needed for all people in the Patronage! You can’t just ask for all of it for yourself-”

“Oh cut the CRAP.” Gabriel snapped, eyes narrowing intensely. “Don’t you give me that. You’ve forgotten one of the OTHER big laws our Father gave to this Earth which the humans actually got right: Thou Shalt Not LIE. I know what you tell the media, but that argument isn’t worth a DAMN! Rich patrons like you can EASILY procure the medicine without a problem, and you live without feeling ANY symptoms during treatment! But for MY species, the death toll’s rising so high in Malaysia alone we don’t even bother to count the bodies!”

“It’s a single world…but two realities, is that it?” Raven quietly asked as Gabriel stopped fuming, brushing the strands of hair out of her vision as she nodded. “Please don’t do anything rash, sir.”

“We’re not children, Raven. It’s just a shame that the only way to have an “adult” conversation about something like this is for one party to first be ARMED.” Gabriel sighed. “You’ve got three hours to start a sweeping treatment campaign. We’ll be monitoring the news broadcasts in this entire quadrant of space so don’t even think of bluffing.” She remarked. “…don’t disappoint me, Raven.” She added before shutting the feed off, Raven cringing as she shook her head back and forth, holding it in one hand.

“Robin…” She murmured.

“You know…” Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpentine Patron from South America groaned as he held his hand over his face, gritting his fanged teeth, wings ruffling behind him. “If some of you, under various pretexts, hadn’t kept casting those stupid f—kin’ vetos and paralyzed the assistance programs to needy Patrons like the Angels, we probably wouldn’t be in this situation. Not that I’m going to name names.” He added darkly.

“Well I will! Cough-cough-IRKENS-cough-cough!” The Vortian female representative snapped, eyes glowering behind her goggles. “Your people still have no respect for other people’s beliefs! You BARELY have your own!”

“I’m sorry, is the species that uses Angels as cheap labors and solutions to THEIR problems trying to make MORAL JUDGMENTS?!” The Irken male representative snorted angrily, folding his arms across his thick robes.

“Well my brethren and I were always for the program.” The soft-spoken Vishnu spoke up, putting a hand on his chest as Kali nodded in agreement next to him, grinning until Thor’s loud SNORT from his nostrils made her scowl.

“Out of GUILT! It was the death of Gandhi by the hand of a Hindu extremist that took away one of the greatest sources and inspirations of spiritual good the world ever saw, and you’ve been trying to make up for it for years!” Thor snapped. “Even though your country spends more money on fake news that you pay for to have pop up in the papers than you do on fixing your abysmal CASTE system! What century are you living in?”

“YOUR kind are one to talk, your people cut the heads off of innocent priests and conquered and plundered for decades!” Kali snarled. “And then you got to soak up attention and money thanks to Marvel films!”

“Yes, you’ve been drinking in fame and fortune whilst the rest of us have struggled to raise awareness for the environment.” The Lord of the Dreamtime hissed out. “And when, pray tell, is the Chinese government going to address their appalling lack of regulatory-”

“THAT! IS! IT!” Raven screeched out, rising up into the air, dark black energy coalescing around her as her eyes briefly became not two, but FOUR burning, seething red balls of fury as she clenched her fists. “ENOUGH! ALL OF YOU!” She snarled, her roaring bellows echoing through the council chamber as she wheeled around, glaring at everyone. “I haven’t got TIME for this and neither does my friend and Mr. Remiel!”

“…sorry…” All of them collectively muttered out as Raven clasped her hands together.

“Now…” She said softly, dangerously. “You’re going to create work groups and designate a spokesperson, then you’ll inform me of the progress of your negotiations. Get to work!”

…

…

…

… “Ruth…Ruth, can you hear me?” Malachi asked, Sara cringing as she wiped Ruth’s sweaty brow, Ruth whimpering a bit as she curled up on the couch.

“I-I can’t…can’t feel anything…” Ruth muttered. “…except HOT. Everything is just so hot now…”

“I’m real sorry for this.” Robin spoke up, Gabriel glancing over in his direction as she flipped through the internet news channels for feedback on their recent demands. “But you should probably know they won’t give in. Between us and the Mythrilite, it’ll be a quick choice. They’ll take a pragmatic approach.” He informed the archangel, looking RIGHT into Gabriel’s rather blood-red eyes.

“The Cybertronian representatives who control Mythrilite production say they can’t allow themselves to provide that much. It would make the value drop so much they’d lose millions.” The Lord of the Dreamtime informed Raven at last, the others in the council room silent and somber as her eyes slightly narrowed at the rainbow-colored serpent. “And the general consensus of everyone is that if we give in to this terrorism, it would just encourage other similar acts…”

“You’re sacrificing innocent souls on the altar of capitalism, is that it?!” Raven growled out, one fist clenching tightly as the Lord of the Dreamtime bowed his head, cringing a big.

“I’m sorry. I’m only telling you the result of our vote.”

“…oh how LOVELY Democracy is.” Raven snorted.

It was at that moment that the holo-vid screen popped back on, Gabriel staring deep into Raven’s eyes, accusingly glaring. “Well?”

“I…had hoped you wouldn’t be calling back.” Raven murmured nervously. “I don’t know how I’m going to say this.”

“Don’t tell me-” Gabriel began to ask before suddenly Ruth began screaming in the background, blood beginning to rise up from her throat and out her mouth as she began spitting up milk. “Oh, no, RUTH!”  He cried out, racing over to her…

Robin saw his chance.  He BOLTED, legs carrying him through the air, Staccato rushing forward at Sara, plowing into her and knocking her down as Gabriel whipped around, Malachi shooting at Robin, missing as the human SLAMMED through the door. He barreled out, racing down the hallway as Malachi chased after him, Robin quickly diving down the hall, ducking to avoid one of the angel’s shots, and as he rolled, his gloved hands slipping into the hidden lockpick in his boot, slipping it out and sliding it into the electrical handcuffs, snapping them open as he hopped down the stairs, Malachi cursing as the human took off.

“So FAST…” He murmured.

“Get him.” Gabriel muttered quickly, Sara taking off with Malachi, readying a high-powered rifle as the archangel knelt by Ruth, who was sobbing and screaming, continuing to bleed and convulse. Gabriel looked mournfully down at her, resting his head atop hers, biting into his lip, crying a single tear as he held her head in one hand, holding his pistol to the back of her head…

KRAKK.

Gabriel now sat alone on the floor of the room, taking in deep, harsh, painful breaths as Staccato looked into his eyes…but he didn’t say anything. Not even when Gabriel exited the room, tossing the gun to the ground, head held low.

What COULD he say?

…

…

…

…Robin swung through the air, spinning about as he launched himself up through the air, wrapping his limbs around a pipe, watching Sara and Malachi pass under him. He had to go after them one at a time, pick them off. As they continued searching through the vent system “underground” of the ship, the steam from the vent rose through the air, showing it was in the middle of cooling the ship off. Robin slunk along the pipe, shimmying carefully as he positioned himself over Sara, who carefully glanced around the room, eyes narrowing.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” She murmured, taking a few steps forward before Robin quickly swung down off the pipe, holding his fists together, slamming it into the back of her head. With a SHOKKA-THWOCK, the angel went flying into the vent system wall, hitting a pipe with a loud BANG. She struggled to wheel around, Robin quickly ducking down, twisting his leg, sweeping her off her feet with a powerful kick, making her flop to the ground as she tried to get to her feet, Robin putting a boot on her rifle.

“You’ll do no killing here.” He insisted calmly, shaking his head back and forth as she cringed, Robin quickly knocking her out with a blow to the head, racing off through the tunnelways.

“It’s all…ruined…” Malachi murmured, curled up in one of the tunnels, shaking his head back and forth. Ruth gone…the plan destroyed. They never really stood a chance, did they? Nothing left to do but-

Robin snatched the gun out of his grip, his other fist slamming into Malachi’s face, knocking the angel to the ground as he glared angrily down at the angel. “There’ll be no suicide here, angel!” He yelled out.

“Damn you! Let me die!” Malachi screamed back, Robin putting the gun away in his pocket, folding his arms over his chest, shaking his head back and forth.

“No.” He said softly, Malachi falling to his knees, covering his head, quietly crying as Robin picked up the communicator Malachi had on his belt, tapping its controls. “I need to call my friends. And then we’ll pick up yours.”

And indeed, it wasn’t long before the other Titans had arrived, Sara and Malachi being put into handcuffs of their own as Starfire looked Robin over, Staccato holding his head in one hand, trying to explain what had happened to Ruth and Staccato as Raven wrote everything down on a notepad…this was going to be hard to explain to the Council.

“Please. Take good care of them. They need pity. Not punishment.” Staccato murmured as Cyborg and Beast Boy put their hands on Sara and Malachi, leading them away and out of the vent system within the walls of the ship.

“How will we find this “Gabriel”?” Starfire inquired as Robin looked over at Raven as she kept writing.

“They’re all infected.” Robin reasoned. “All of them. I took notice of Gabriel’s eyes. If those two had the disease, and if they all work together and live together constantly…”

“Yes, they’ve got the disease.” Staccato admitted as he held up his hand and slid open his gauntleted wrist, showing off the built-in communicator. “It’s ironic…our father created imitation bodies to help us emulate humans. Machine forms so close to mankind. And all the weaknesses that came with it.”

“If you spent less time around the sick, maybe you wouldn’t be infected?” Starfire asked as Staccato cringed.

“You can’t control who needs your help. But I doubt there’s much you can do to track Gabriel. For one, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, angels don’t have DNA you can trace and they can change their physical appearance easily enough. And frankly, he’s a dead man walking.” Robin added. “WE can get these people treatment with Mythrilite…we have to, we need their testimony for a court of law. But where’s Gabriel going to get it?” He wished to know.

“He’s not. He’s probably…” Raven trailed off. “…gone…back.” She murmured. “I think I know where he is. At his house!”

“You really think he just went back home?” Robin wanted to know, raising an eyebrow up at her.  “Why?”

“I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I’ve worked alongside them. My unique bloodline means I don’t get sick from Earth diseases, but I noticed they were all coughing and looking more sickly lately…” Raven murmured as she steepled her hands. “And Gabriel hasn’t anywhere else to go. I know the type of person he is. He’s probably waiting for me…maybe even for you two.” She added, looking back at Staccato and Robin.

“When were you going to tell me you’d been working with THESE particular angels?” Robin asked, looking astounded, mouth slightly agape before he waved a hand in the air. “Doesn’t matter. We need to find Gabriel now. Which ship did you work in?”

“One of the Shanty-ships that house so many of the Patronage’s Angels and any “unfortunates” we picked up from various homes that HAVE no more home to go to…it’s designation is A113.”

…

…

…

…Robin didn’t say anything as he looked over the scene, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and sympathy, Staccato standing alongside as he held his hand over his face, cringing.

“Now you see what we live with?” He asked.

It was, to put it bluntly, a s—thole. The trash, garbage and old, used-up piles of junk were lying around uselessly in huge patches around the ship. Entire houses had been made entirely out of scrounged-up piles of garbage, a pale film of brown haze filling the air, moans and whimpers filling the air as a disgusting, rancid smell assaulted Robin’s nostrils. As they made their way through the ship, Robin cringed, seeing emaciated children impaling various rats and other disgusting pets that were scurrying around what few pools and  water sources could be found, splashing in the greenish/black pools, a woman who was clearly their mother sitting nearby, nursing a young baby as best she could as an Angel administered small vials of medicine to the children by the pools, other angels helping to cook the rodens.

Several other angels were helping obvious African children repair their home, hammering away at a flimsy shack of wood made up to look like a suburban-esque hut, but the kids that were holding onto the wooden planks were so thin and weak, their knees were buckling just by holding onto the planks, and the occasional dead body littered the streets, as if tossed out of carts like a burger king wrapper out of a car window, rodents scurrying over them. One angel knelt by one of the bodies, covering its face with its arm, trying to surpress tears as it lifted the dead child up and carried it towards a cart full of dead corpses.

“Nobody better say “bring out your dead”.” Another angel growled at some nearby refugees as he began wrapping up their wounds with some gauze, giving them death glares as the cart ambled by, Staccato and Robin walking past him as they took notice of someone passing out medical supplies by a small, orb-shaped building that seemed to resemble a shop. Yep, a red-haired angel with a bow on his back who looked very, VERY angry, he was muttering barely audible Latin obscenities as he put case after case of band-aids, gauze, wrappings and other materials into boxes on the table he was working at.

“Uriel?” Staccato called out, Uriel the Archangel glancing up, his red and gold armor muddied and covered in grime and muck as his furious appearance softened. “Have you seen Gabriel? He’s very sick, we need to talk to him immediately.”

“He’s in the hut behind me.” Uriel murmured quietly. “…he wouldn’t let me even TRY to touch him. Stupid IDIOT always has to go off and…I keep telling him “you need to just do what you’re told”, but NOOO. Never could do that. Always has to make a big show and “improvise”…and now he’s DYING!” He yelled out, slamming his fists down onto the table, making it collapse in a heap on the spot. “GODDAMMIT!” Uriel cringed, visibly flinching. “Sorry, it…it hurts us to swear.” He admitted as Staccato and Robin made their way inside the little hut.

“…I was hoping you’d come.” Gabriel admitted, his black hair matted with sweat, some milky blood dripping out of the side of his mouth as he knelt against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs, a bottled water by his side as he coughed and spluttered. “HOGCHK…uh…ooo…you shouldn’t be so close to me. I could accidentally infect you…”

“I’m one of the good guys. We BOTH are. And we’re here to help your people.” Robin insisted firmly. “I’m not doing this for your gratitude. You’re a powerful symbol, Gabriel. If you speak before the Council and the media…”

“What if I don’t want to survive?” Gabriel asked, holding up the bottled war, shaking it slightly as he laughed sadly, some blood sloughing out of his mouth, the milk flopping to the floor. “I thought I had the courage to go all the way, to sacrifice myself for the cause, die fighting when they came for me. But when Ruth died…I panicked. I just wanted to crawl away and die in a hole.”

“We didn’t let Malachi and Sara sacrifice themselves like that.” Robin said.

“At least they fought back, though…correct?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. “…they didn’t want to go gently.”

“I’m one of the good guys.” Robin insisted, shaking his head and waving a hand in the air.

“Then you’ll do the right thing.” The archangel whispered, Staccato stepping forward, trying to help Gabriel up.

“Come ON, Gabe! Stop this and let us help you! You can’t just give up here!”

“If you care about me at all, dear Remiel…you’ll do the right thing.” Gabriel quietly murmured. “And you’ll kill me. I AM a criminal now, after all. I was going to blow your head open.”  He smiled wryly.

“You would NEVER have done that.”

“This ISN’T the right way. We need you to speak out about what’s happening to your people.” Robin demanded, holding Gabriel’s shoulder.

“You think we didn’t TRY?” Gabriel asked. “Time and time again? But no, no…everyone always expects us to give, and give, and give and they think we have it easy. That it’s all harps and fluffy clouds for us. Nobody’s willing to do anything unless there’s someone dead. Let me and Ruth be those faces.” He asked. “When they carry bloody shirts in front of government buildings, demanding justice…it can be our faces they see in their eyes. It’s better we die for this than people like you. Say you chased me down and killed me because I wouldn’t come willingly. I’ll be a martyr for the cause. People will care. Our own people will lose the fatalism they have. They’ll think they can make a difference. ”

“And what if you inspire other people to deliberately get themselves “suicided by cop”?” Staccato demanded. “Gabe…I lost Michael. I…I don’t want to lose you too. I want to do what’s right.” He pleaded, his voice breaking, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“…then do it.” Gabriel said, head bowed, eyes closed.

And so…the two of them stood there…looking at this dying angel. They only wanted to do the right thing.

…and yet neither one…

Had any idea what that truly was…