Disclaimer and Warning
THIS IS AN ADULT THEMED PARODY OF DC COMICS CHARACTERS!!!
This story contains sexually explicit material and situations between consenting adults. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, are under the age of 18, or it is illegal in your part of the world, PLEASE bypass this story for one more suited to you.
All the characters belong to DC Comics, a Time Warner Company. No Copyright infringement is intended. I just borrowed them so that they could have a sex life and to please some adoring fans out there. I have not received one red cent from writing this story and if you sue, all you'll get is two bad ass little girls. The only payment I wish is praise, criticism and some ideals for other stories.
This work is copyrighted to the author. If you wish to archive this story, please ask permission first. Nine times out of Ten, I'll say yes. Please do not remove without the author's permission or make any changes to this story. Thank you for your consideration
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Thank You's and Dedications…
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For Rachel Ehrlich, The World's Biggest Jericho Fan and Grammar Bitch Extraordinaire!
Girlfriend, I know this story was late, but it's here at last! I hope you enjoy reading it, because I enjoyed writing it. Now you may pull it apart and tell me everything I did wrong!
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Quick Note:
This story was centered on The New Titans #66-67. This is what I think should have happened after the Eric Forrester incident. This is as close to canon as I'm likely to get to cannon, so enjoy it!
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Explanations:
Because Joseph is mute (no ability to verbally speak) I had to come up with a unique way for him to be heard. I used single-quotes to signify him speaking via American Sign Language and italics to indicate thoughts (for him and for others). I hope that helped.
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For those without a clue…
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Joseph Wilson (Jericho)
is the youngest son of Slade (Deathstroke the Terminator) and Addie Wilson. Due to an Army experiment done on his father, Joseph was born a mutant able to enter and take over the bodies of whomever he makes eye contact with, controlling all their actions, even speaking with their voice if the victim is unconscious. Mute since 5 due to his father's unwillingness to compromise his client's security, which resulted in Joe being kidnapped and having his throat slit. His father bet his above-normal reflexes were faster than the man holding the knife on his son; he was wrong, and Joe suffered for Slade's misjudgment. Joseph is a highly trained martial artist and a potentially extremely dangerous man with the soul of a pacifist. Joe is an artist and musician by trade, and is known for his ability to get his point across better then anyone who can speak.
Raven of Azarath
is the empathic daughter of Arella, an Earth woman, and an inter-dimensional demon named Trigon. Arella, lost and looking for love, joined a cult and was seduced by the worst evil imaginable. Pregnant with a demon's child, alone and at the end of her rope, she attempted suicide. That's when Azar found her and took her to Azarath, a hidden dimension of pacifists trained to battle the evil of Trigon. It was later disclosed that Raven was the only one of Trigon's 100 children to have survived to adulthood; the rest were either murdered by people fearing Trigon, or killed by their mothers, who then killed themselves. When Raven was born, Azar took her from Arella to be raised by Azar herself and trained to control the part of her nature that was her father's. Raven, along with the Azaratheans, was the only force in the universe capable of destroying Trigon. If Raven had fallen into his hands, his power would have been absolute. Cut off from all human emotion and contact with her mother, Raven trained so that one day, she could destroy the demon and free her own soul from his darkness. Raven is an empath, a healer with the ability to draw a person's pain and suffering into her own body and dispel it safely. She is able to move between dimensions, and is able to separate her body from her soul. The soul is referred to as her soulself and is a powerful extension of herself. It has all of Raven's abilities and more. Raven is the ultimate pacifist.
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Love is often silent…
Lower East '80s, New York City, New York. 3:08 AM.
The young woman lying in the middle of the queen-size bed was restless. After a long day of doing absolutely nothing, she had retired to her bed, expecting to sleep, but it was not to be. No matter how she tried, sweet bliss was denied her.
This was nothing new. Many things had been denied Raven of Azarath.
Sighing, she turned to her side and stared at the open doorway. Although she could not see him, she knew he was there, patiently waiting.
Waiting to sooth the nightmares that held her hostage in the night.
Waiting to offer comfort when there was none to be found.
Willing to hold her until the world righted itself around her.
Willing to listen should she speak.
If only it was that easy
, the thought came unbidden to her mind. Nothing had ever come easily in her life; why should it start now? The bitter look that crossed the Empath's delicate features would have surprised those who knew her. She normally didn't express such emotions—
any
emotions, for that matter. Trained from birth to control her emotions lest she free her father, she had been denied a normal childhood, never allowed the freedom of feeling, living,
loving
, for fear she would unknowingly give her father the opportunity he was looking for to control her.
She felt surrounded by men wanting to use her.
Eric Forrester.
Every time she thought of the man, all the newfound emotions came swirling to the forefront, choking her with rage and hurt, feelings she was not equipped to handle or express. Nothing she did helped, and she tried everything she knew. Even trying to gain her inner peace through meditation didn't work. All she could do was agonize over it, and pray that Azar saw fit to gift her with wisdom—but the goddess was silent tonight, and every night for the past week.
She was on her own. Knowing that, what could she do? How could she express the emotions that relentlessly attacked her? How could she speak of all the spiritual turmoil she was experiencing? How could she explain the
rage
…the
hurt
she still felt? How could she put into mere words the very things she feared would consume her?
She couldn't. Expression had never been her strength; even now she could feel the raging emotions…swirling…twisting…fighting for control of her every thought. Trying to consume her in ways her father never could; destroying her, one painful memory at a time.
It had been a week since Eric's assault, and still it was no easier to think about.
One week.
One week since the police came to arrest Eric and found his burned out mechanical body instead.
One week since Karen Beecher and Sarah Charles came with various S.T.A.R. Labs personnel to take the remains away for examination and burial. Karen and Sarah took turns holding the shell-shocked empath, crying even as she cried, offering what comfort and support they could.
One week since the Titans had crowded into her small apartment and took over as only they could. The whole clean-up would have moved faster if S.T.A.R. and the police didn't have to work around seven additional people, but the Titans refused to budge, intent on being on-hand should she need them. Silently offering the unconditional love and support she had long associated with them. They wouldn't leave until someone volunteered to stay with her. Her protests that she was fine by herself were continuously ignored by Richard, who gave her a look that said he knew better. He was conversing with Joseph, and though she was in the wrong position to see what Joseph was signing, she did see Richard nod his head once before turning to the team and giving the signal to clear out. There were last minute hugs and kisses, which she accepted before they left. What else could she do? She was still in shock. When the door closed behind them, she realized that one had stayed. Getting up off the couch, Joseph walked over to her and signed, 'I will stay for as long as you need me.' And that was that.
One week since Joseph held her in the middle of her bedroom and let her cry for everything she had lost.
One damn week!
Trembling, she hugged her long arms around herself, as if to keep the unpleasant thoughts at bay. Once again, she felt the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes; tears that threatened to destroy her fragile peace. Tears she refused to release, for fear that once she started, she would never stop.
It was always the same; hurt followed by anger in an unrelenting cycle. After the need to cry passed, the crippling anger returned—more potent, more violent than before. Every time she thought of how foolish and naive she had been, how easy to trick, the rage threatened to consume her.
The hurt was much worse.
Eric Forrester. The man responsible for all her mental and emotional anguish. Her first taste of love, and such a bitter pill to swallow.
Betrayer.