Fan Fiction ❯ Flaming Phoenix ❯ Starting Over ( Chapter 1 )

A/n: Hi! I couldn't bear to leave Phoenix's Risethe way I did . . . so for anyone who cares . . . here's the follow up!

 

Chapter 1

 

Starting Over

 

Titans' Tower. Normally it's loud with laughing and shouting. The heroes would go outside to practice every day. No villain wanted to be paired against them . . . well, that's how it used to be.

 

Now, it's quiet. All of their extra time is focused on one thing, finding their lost teammate. Most of the time, the Titans let the police handle the situations they should take care of themselves.

 

In my opinion, I believe that the Titans are losing their mojo, and have out-lived their usefulness.

 

“Who wrote that bull?” Robin asked tartly.

 

“Some guy named Icy B. Cool.” Cyborg, who had read the news paper article out loud, replied dryly. “Sounds like Whiteout could be back again.”

 

“No. Phoenix took him out, twice. There's no way he could be back again.” Terra argued. “She was . . . is . . . the best Titan, you guys have got to agree with me.”

 

Beast Boy placed one of his gloved hands on Terra's. “I agree, but you have to agree that it seems like our worst enemies keep coming back.”

 

“I just wish that we could find her. Where could she be?” Terra's voice cracked, but there were no tears left.

 

Hop City, what a stupid name. Could explain why all of these crooks decide to set up shop here. A black-haired girl with an attitude thought as she walked down the sidewalk on Main Street. What was that . . . number six today?

 

She turned to look in the window of a fancy clothing store. Faded jeans, a well-fitted t-shirt which read `Do I LOOK Like I Care?' on the front and `Didn't Think So' on the back, and army boots. Her hair was tightly French-braided to keep it up and out of the way. If it was let down, the dark mass went about half of the way down her back.

 

Even though she didn't look it, she was constantly unsure of herself. Waking up about two months ago with no memories what-so-ever unnerved her. Every once and a while, something would somehow trigger a sort of flash through her mind. It usually didn't last long, rarely more than twenty seconds, but it was enough to send her reeling with the pain.

 

It was always the same thing too. There was a boy, wrapped in wire, on a table. She ran forward and slashed the restraints with a diamond-bladed sword. The view then shifted, and the sword was plunged into a boy's stomach. He screamed as he bled to death, and that was about it.

 

“Why should I care about who I am?!” She shouted at her reflection. “If anyone cared about me, they'd try to find me!” No one answered, or paused on the crowded sidewalk, but the girl was used to that. Come on, it's time to let Pyra out again.