Fan Fiction ❯ Rose, tint my world ❯ Running away ( Chapter 1 )

 

“Rose, tint my world”

 

 

A survival horror fanfiction by JackoMegane (AKA OzZ Cometh)

 

 

Your standard disclaimer applies. I don't own any characters, locales, or distinct personalities of the Titans, which I am about to attempt portraying. NOR do I own any of the creatures or specific events of Splatter House. What I came up with myself will be outlined at the end of this chapter, but regardless, the basic ownership claims belong to Cartoon Network and Namco, respectively, and this work is done in the greatest of humility and admiration.

Please don't sue me.

 

 

“In the long run we are all dead.”

-John Maynard Keynes

 

 

Chapter one- “Running away”

 

 

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June fourth, Titans island

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Underneath the spotless sky of an uneventful Saturday afternoon, Titans island presided amongst the scenic brilliance of early summer. The sun that shinned brightly overhead cast a reflective iridescence off the landform's large, centrally located T-shaped building, and was only disrupted by an occasional “V” formation of birds that would stroll lazily by.

Having just come out of the glorious spring, many flowers were still in full bloom, exhibiting a spectacle of color across the mainland's shore and the trees stood tall with the conclusion of their many branches shrouded in vivid green.

 

 

And it was likely to hold this for the next two to three months, just as it did last summer, and just as it would do in the future, but just as this was uniform and presented the bearing of normalcy, there was one other reliable facet that lie in-tow.

One that the season's cheerful admirers could, by all means, do without.

 

 

“Dude!” Beastboy's voice projected across the living room. The changeling was nestled on the right of the room's three central couches, and with mouth agape, tried in vain to fan himself off with his hands.

“What're we up to now? One hundred, one hundred and fifty degrees? It's like the surface of the sun in here!”

“Your complaining isn't helping.” Raven was quick to scold, and Robin soon thereafter added, “You're exaggerating, Beastboy.” But almost as promptly cut himself off to rid his brow of another bead of sweat.

“…But not by much. Of all days for the AC to break down…”

No one was quite sure when the commercial-built air conditioner had taken its last fleeting breath of operation, but the boy wonder recalled a less than welcome memory of waking up around eight-ish, so doused in sweat that he could barely peel himself from the mattress.

 

 

“Man, I can't take it anymore!” Beastboy flailed his arms wildly for effect.

“When'd Cy say he'd be done with that thing, anyway?”

 

 

To this, Robin's usually reliable first-hand reply stalled. Scratching the back of his head, he muttered, “Not sure. He said he hasn't done much work with AC's…”

The frail answer would, in ultimate effect, gain Raven's attention, and after averting from her tome, she prompted, “He built a luxury sports car from scratch, but he can't figure out an air conditioner?”

Robin shook his head. “It isn't that easy, Raven. Getting cold air around in a car and getting it around in a building are completely different.”

 

 

Satisfied with this, she returned to her book. Beastboy, however, was slow to follow suit.

“And that car has a theatre-quality sound system with double bass boost, jet propulsion and gets nearly forty miles to the gallon! The difference can't be bad enough to top that!”

Doing his best to keep the building aggravation from claiming his voice, Robin shot back, “Even if he knew air-conditioners like the back-side of his hand, trouble-shooting alone could take hours. You're just going to have to bite your lip and wait it out.”

 

 

With a plaintive fold of his arms, Beastboy turned his head toward the window and shut his mouth.

…And it wasn't till the room fell completely silent did Starfire decide to make her entrance.

“Friends!” She begun in her usual cheerful voice while approaching.

“I have found the perfect remedy to an uncommonly sweltering day!” Her hand proceeded to gesture toward the window that her green-skinned team-mate just happened to be gazing through.

“We could go outside!”

 

 

Rather than answer, Robin produced an exasperated sigh and turned toward the opposite window. He knew precisely what was coming, and sure as he predicted the following event, it fell into place.

“OUTSIDE?!?” Beastboy was more than happy to resurrect his arguments. “Out there, in the middle of it? You're crazy!”

“But we would be directly neighboring the ocean!” a quick protest ensued, inviting him to escalate his resolve.

…And as he started in on his counter, Robin found himself desperately searching the massive body of water below for some sort of distraction.

To his inward surprise, he found it.

 

 

Two parallel sets of ripples streamed across the otherwise undisturbed aquatic surface. At their conclusion was a steadily drifting object; too small to be anything commercial. Due to his altitude, it was difficult to make out any details past that, but the indications were ample enough to suggest that someone was in a raft or canoe, rowing manually towards Titans island.

…And going pretty damned fast, judging from the production of the ripples.

 

 

Trying to keep his attention from the still quarreling Beastboy and Starfire, Robin turned toward the second best opinion to seek.

“Hey, Raven, could you come here a second?”

The mystic did not verbally acknowledge, but locked eyes with Robin. Then, with a heavy sigh, closed the tome and rose to her feet.

“Something wrong?” She asked upon arriving.

Rather than speak, Robin nodded toward the small boat.

“Have you ever seen anyone row a boat that fast?” He asked once she came to terms with what he was seeing.

“No. He's making good time.”

“Would you say he's coming toward us?”

“Directly.” Raven cast a serious glance toward him. “Think he has a reason?”

Robin's eyes narrowed behind his mask.

“I don't know.” He replied, then turned around. “But I intend to find out…”

 

 

“KNOCK IT OFF, YOU TWO!” The voice of Beastboy and Starfire's leader bounced impressively off the walls, killing their argument with little difficulty. Silent and attentive, they both gazed toward him.

“I've made up my mind.” He declared, “We're going outside.”

Starfire's bright expression clashed sharply with the `shot-down' look Beastboy had adopted, but the tune was quick to change when there came a slightly less audible, “But it isn't for fun…”

Robin looked over his shoulder once more before starting for the elevators.

“Not by a long shot.”

 

 

The descent toward the ground floor was quiet and featureless, but as the four titans filed out the lift door with Starfire assuming the lead, Raven intentionally fell back and whispered to Robin, “Why do you think someone would be in such a rush to get to our island?”

The boy wonder's brow creased slightly.

“Only one reason I can think of…” He murmured, “He's running from something.”

 

 

***********************************************

Roughly two hundred yards off-shore from Titans Island

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A high-pitched, perceptive whine arose from the sides of the small makeshift rowboat as its ores were brought up once more. During its entire escapade, it had not failed to produce this noise with each such movement, and it was not unlike the catastrophe that had come to rest within its occupant.

A perpetual siren that assailed the young man's mind every instance of every second, demanding, urging, pleading that he return to nightmare from which he came.

No cessation, no white light at the end of the tunnel, no redemption day.

 

 

Like Hamlet, he found himself caught between moral obligation and personal desire; crushed underneath the struggle of that which he should do, and what he wanted to do.

Regardless of how tense it may have become, he chose the latter alternative, and the raw fear that remained, tormenting the vaults of his memory, held him more than loyal to it.

No therapy, no potential of ever recovering, no content future.

 

 

A pair of built, sun-scorched arms proceeded to force forward, causing the ores to fall back, ultimately propelling the entire vessel backward with considerable velocity.

A strained groan dispersed from his lips as his fried skin struggled to accommodate the moving muscles that it sheltered. But that was little compared to what was slowly disestablishing him on the inside.

Physically, he could do it. There was no one else, it seemed, that could brave those horrors.

No one else could salvage the life he left behind.

He was the only one capable of returning with the prospect of emerging victorious.

 

 

But mentally, he was disappointed with himself. So quick to break down at the sight of the occult.

His was a mind so simple in its functionality that it simply couldn't handle the brutal reality that there was no God.

Once this thought was birthed, he toiled effortlessly upon the ores, catapulting the raft in reverse with an outstanding momentum. His arms worked with twice the driving force behind the curtains, drawing him closer and closer till the raft shook with a violent collision.

 

 

The young man, in accordance, was rocked forward and promptly thereafter seized by two separate sets of hands on each arm. Although their touch stung his sun-burnt flesh, he offered no resistance, knowing good and well that they were only trying to help. Wise to that much, he went limp and attempted to catch his breath as they hefted him from the small, un-seaworthy vessel.

“Dude!” Beastboy groaned as he struggled to pull the stranger back.

“Who is this guy, a teenage Hercules?!?”

Robin offered no gratification, but strained to exert more force. Just as the heft seemed about ready to snap his arms, the young man slumped over the edge of the raft and hit the bright, hot sand of a narrow shoreline.

After slowly rolling over onto his back, he lay perfectly still and proceeded to take in large bouts of breath.

With the moment caught in a mild gauge of peace, the four Titans gathered around to study their new visitor.

 

 

What they saw was a teenage boy, roughly seventeen, whom was built and defined to a near unbelievable extent. A six pack dominated the abdomen, pectorals bulged, and his arms, seemingly the largest, most distinct feature, looked as though they hadn't seen a day outside of the weight-room.

A crop of wavy chestnut hair was not allowed more than three inches upon the top to exhibit its texture, and was sheered into a fade on the sides and back.

All four started abruptly when his eyelids flipped open, exposing two separately colored irises; one that shone an ice-cold blue, and the other a dull, unreflective brown.

Even following this, he failed to move. Or for that matter, acknowledge any existence but his own.

That factored in, a brief instance of silence ensued.

 

 

Robin was first to reproach, directly leaning over to face him. It was difficult to keep a calm posterior; those eyes…

“Are you alright?”

The young man's eyes darted from left to right. After closing them, he answered, “No.”

“Can you walk?”

He replied with a frail nod of his head and was greeted by a gloved hand, offering help to his feet.

After a few more breaths, he accepted and was lifted into an upright position.

 

 

“You're pretty burnt, but you look okay…what happened?”

The boy rapidly shook his head.

“Something terrible. You can't know, you'll hurt. You'll…”

He trailed, his eyes going distant.

“Mothsera…” His next word just barely prevailed a whisper, and seemed more directed to himself than anyone else. Raven, however, gasped in recognition.

“Where did you hear that?” The empath promptly advanced upon him with questions of her own. But the only outcome was another shake of his head.

“No.” He intoned with little reluctance, “You can't…”

“I already do, now where have you heard that name?!?” Arose a stout, insistent argument.

His eyes fixed onto her, but unlike Robin, she did not allow her resolve to falter.

“…You know it?”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “Volume three, section seventeen, The resurrection conflict. Mothsera, Barron of worms.”

“You do!”

Rather than acknowledge, she persisted to ask, “What has he done?”

The young man's jaw begun to quiver as he took this in. In an unsteady voice, he answered, “He took them from me…they're dead, now. I was the only one…I was the only one that got away.”

To this, Raven only nodded.

 

 

Whilst their exchange progressed, Beastboy soon found distraction in the form of a burlap satchel, placed toward the end of the raft. Without having to go to great lengths, he arrived to it, and grabbed onto a carrying strap, but was given no time to backtrack before being noted by the least savory present.

“Don't touch that!” The young man broke his confrontation with Raven to bolt to the raft and reclaim his bag. Shocked dormant, Beastboy allowed it to be jerked from his hands.

The boy clutched it to his chest thereafter, and muttered in a slightly apologetic tone, “You can't see…nothing…nothing good is in here…”

And proceeded to trail off once more, making it safe to deem that something had shaken him.

Terribly.

 

 

Being first to write it off as a simple mound of stress, Starfire approached.

“You require rest, friend.” She placed a hand on each shoulder, but quickly aborted when he flinched.

“…and something to ail your burns.”

The boy held nary a reaction, even when his invitation was led away by her arm to the other Titans, whom had gathered in a small huddle.

 

 

“Star, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, there's obviously something wrong with this guy!” Beastboy raised a logical concern, his eyes sneaking another glance in the mystery guest's direction.

“There is nothing wrong with him, he is scared!” The Tamaranean declared solemnly. “We are protectors of the city, it is our job to help those in need, is it not?”

Robin shook his head, slightly buried under the entire ordeal. “You have a point, Star, but Beastboy's onto something, too…there's more than just fear going through this guy's mind…” He followed Beastboy's gaze to the boy.

“Don't get me wrong, he doesn't look dangerous, but…”

“He stays with us.” Raven had remained silent and stand-offish till then, but her sudden declaration caused every other mouth to shut.

“Starfire's right. He's not crazy, just scared…and he has every reason to be. He's had an encounter with something terrible…”

There arose no opposition, but Robin soon asked in genuine interest, “What, exactly?”

“I'll explain everything I know later, but for now we have to get him inside…He looks like he's missed some sleep.”

Without much hesitation, the boy wonder nodded his head. In this instance he knew it was best to be fair, reasonable, and logical.

“Alright. If you think it's in his best interest, I'll take your word for it.”

 

 

Through the brief decision-making process, the young man kept his eyes fixed on the ground, or averted to his bag, and remained so focused on this that he failed to notice when Starfire came toward him anew.

“Friend!” She greeted, causing him to lift his head. “We have decided that it would be best for you to board with us, until you are feeling better. You agree, yes?”

He stalled before answering, “I have no place left to live. This bag…” He hefted the satchel into a more clear filed of vision, “is all that's left of it…left of me…are you sure you wanna'?…I don't deserve friends…” Shame filmed over his eyes, and his face proceeded to fall back to the vicinity of his feet, but Starfire only nodded her head pleasantly. It was at this instant that Robin joined.

“All that's left of it…” He repeated, “That means you used to have a home…Wouldn't you just want us to take you back there and maybe try to…”

“No!” He shook his head more than what could be deemed necessary. “I can't go back there, now…” and his brow proceeded to crease, “…or ever.”

The boy wonder struggled to produce a serviceable response, but in the end could only manage a frail, “…Right.”

 

 

The most immediate discovery that settled upon entering Titans tower was that of the air conditioners being restored to their normal operation. Vents recessed upon the ceiling of the establishment's main hall assailed the first to enter with a powerful jet-blast of cold air. Where Beastboy assumed the lead and Raven brought up the rear, their new guest walked amongst them off to the side, and would not raise his eyes from the floor for anything. Peculiar, as those who entered the building for their first time raved over its unique design, but not entirely surprising.

By this point, it had become apparent that this young man wasn't just shaken- -He was traumatized, and fittingly enough, turned a blind-eye to much of the world.

 

 

“Man, feel that cold air!” Beastboy chimed as he led the group toward the lifts, where Cyborg would most likely be found.

“Cy's a real whiz with the electronics, like a genius, or something!”

“…Yet, less than a half-hour ago, he was too stupid to figure out an air conditioner.” Raven's sarcasm-laden voice rung from the back of the line, causing the changeling to scowl, but he offered no return-fire.

Given the circumstances, it simply wouldn't have been Raven to resist…

 

 

Cyborg, sure as it was secure to assume, was found on the tower's topmost floor in the dining area.

Perched upon a stool, the hybrid clutched an unmarked bottle in one hand, and sported a white towel around his shoulders. Although he noted the entrance of his friends, he did not acknowledge.

“Hey, Cyborg.” Robin was first to greet. “Looks like you got the air conditioner back to work. Good job.”

A smug grin promptly spread across Cyborg's face. “First time ever working on a full-scale A.C system, and she's workin' good as new! BOO Y…” The boisterous self-appraisal died upon his tongue as he caught sight of the new guest.

In a less perceptive, and slightly dumb-founded tone, he queried, “Ah…I miss something?”

“In a manner of speaking. This is…” Robin begun to answer, but trailed when he realized that the strange young man had never revealed his name. Feeling the slightest bit dumb, he turned his attention to the boy and asked, “Uh…what was your name, anyway?”

“Thomas. Hefty.” His tone was beginning to drag, outwardly revealing his exhaustion.

“…Right. Cy, this is Thomas. I'll explain why he's here later, but right now we have to get something for this sun-burn…”

Left completely in the dark, Cyborg watched in silence as the perfect stranger was led away to the infirmary.

 

 

Close to forty-five minutes later, Thomas Hefty was stenching of Aloe Vera, slightly soaked from an ice-cold shower, and given a soda, but he still had yet to open up to any of the Titans. Starfire, being the epiphany of hospitality that she was, demanded that he be allowed some time to sleep before being further questioned. This did not bother any of the other Titans so much; for they still had Raven to look for when it came to answers to some of their more desperate questions, however solace wasn't quickly found in her, either.

Before sitting down for a presumably long conversation, the sorceress flat-out insisted that she herself bathe; not an ethic she regularly adopted when there was work to be done.

Robin came to leisurely note, whilst he and the others waited for her to return to the dining room, that she had not entirely been acting herself since Thomas' arrival. Something about her frame of mind now seemed anxious, and unnerved, thus a slight feeling of dread begun to well up in his own head.

Anything that could panic Raven was bound to be bad.

 

 

“…So, what you're saying is this guy just paddled up to our island?” Cyborg repeated Beastboy, whom volunteered to break the whole thing down to him during the wait.

“Yup.” Beastboy stretched back on the couch.

“And he didn't say if he came over from the mainland?”

“No, but from some of the stuff he did say, it didn't sound like he did. He made it seem like his entire home had been destroyed…last I checked, Jump was just fine.”

The hybrid shook his head, a slightly lost look upon his face. “That really doesn't make any sense…” He murmured. “The nearest island from here is almost ten miles off-shore. How could he have managed that in a lil' row-boat?”

“Helllo? Did you get a chance to really see that guy?” Beastboy sprung from the couch, “He-man doesn't have anything on him! He's like a super-human!”

“He must have pushed himself quite hard to have reached that level of physical definition.” Starfire remarked from the other side of the room.

“…Or he musta' been popping alota' pills…” Cyborg muttered in a far lower tone.

“No, he didn't get any help getting that build. I'm almost sure of it.” Raven's voice arose from the far corner of the kitchen, causing everyone's head to turn in its direction.

Inexplicably, she had emerged from the corridor and strolled through the living room without being noticed by anyone. At a slow pace, she seized a kettle from an over-head rack recessed in the ceiling and proceeded to fill it with water.

“Mothsera's presence was probably motivation enough.”

 

 

Despite the remark sounding leisurely, it caused Robin to lean inward in anticipation of her next words.

Raven, however, said nothing while lowering the kettle onto the stovetop.

Although he was prepared to let her speak at her own pace, a still lost Cyborg quickly grew aggravated.

“Well, I'm not sure what else to take a stab at when I don't know what the heck you're talking about!”

He fumed, “So if you don't mind letting me in on the big secret, who or what is `Mothsera'?”

Raven did not look toward him, but answered, “He's something I learned about in one of those tomes I read. It's difficult to explain…”

Discarding the kettle to its spot on the stove, the mystic turned and ventured into the living room.

“…But I'll try my best.”

 

 

Sliding into the middle of the room's center-most couch, Raven crossed her legs, folded her arms, and begun, “I go through a lot of those tomes. They don't teach me about my powers so much as they touch base on the history of creation, and the parts that good and evil have played in it. Anything that has to do with this particular planet is categorized as a `volume'…like encyclopedias…”

“Why?” Beastboy was first to raise a question, not even halfway through her lecture. “Why is this planet so different from every other planet?”

Raven locked eyes with him solemnly. “Because this is the only planet that created its own evil.”

A sigh dispersed from her lips as she begun to realize how hard the story was to describe.

“For a long time the Underworld…my father, was the only presence of evil, and there was a balance between the two forces, but when the Human race was born, things begun to change…”

 

“I always hear things like that.” Robin remarked in a tone of voice that barely surpassed a whisper.

Despite this, it caught everyone's attention.

“Anything I've ever run into that wasn't Human has always told me that we're nothing but selfish, ignorant upstarts. Cattle, I remember a few of them calling us…”

“Don't believe everything you hear. You're capable of more than you're told. This was the only race in the history of creation to make the firstborne truly feel threatened…”

Again, she sighed, and momentarily cradled her head in her hands, fighting a losing battle to keep her emotions in check. It was this that caused the other Titans to cue into her evident stress.

…And possibly her fear.

Starfire took a seat beside the mystic and drew an arm about her shoulders whilst Robin placed a hand on both of her own.

Raven did not show reaction to the sudden emotional support, but failed to turn it away, thus it remained.

 

 

“I always thought it was ironic…” She muttered weakly, “how I do all of this reading to gain more knowledge…and once I do, I…wish I could just forget.”

After taking in an unsteady breath, she picked up, “The story's never been well remembered, but what scraps still exist tell the tale of a man that lived in the Greco-Roman era. His name was never documented, but he was later referred to by scholars and mystics as `Mothsera', which is a native Infernal term. There's no real English word for it; the closest translation I can think of is…” Her breath caught in her throat, causing Starfire to draw her closer, “Freak.”

“And your da- -Trigon, was the one that thought that up, right?” Cyborg figured.

She gave a feeble nod of her head and pressed on, “It's said that even from early childhood he was a physical perfectionist…driven by some sort of belief that it would grant him the power of a God. Whatever it was, it caused him to get this insane devotion and by adulthood, there wasn't much left of him mentally. But his body was another story…”

“Sounds like our little friend in there…” Cyborg threw a wary glance toward the hall in which Thomas' room was found.

“The tome never could properly judge whether or not he had lost his mind, but if it was the power of a God he wanted, he might have gotten it, in the long run. Right when he was at his supposed prime, he contracted some sort of disease…there were so many illnesses and infections that were terminal at the time, no one really knows if what he caught was pneumonia, pox, or just a common cold, but in due time, he died from it.”

 

 

For a brief duration, silence reigned in the once noisy living quarter of Titans tower. No one had noticed till that point how quickly time had passed- -the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, filtering an orange glow through the huge windows.

“…Well…” Beastboy cut the quiet tension, “That doesn't sound so bad.”

And it came back into full swing just as quickly when Raven replied, “That isn't where it ends.”

“It was time for his soul to leave his body, right?” Robin tried his own hand at taking a shot in the dark, and was found to be just as accurate as Cyborg.

Raven, however, only picked up where he left off, “He had worked too hard. His whole life was devoted to building himself physically, and when the threat of that being taken away arose…” She shook her head again, “His soul just point blank…refused. Even to this day, it can't be explained, but neither force ever interjected, so his corpse just got up and started wrecking havoc.”

“Like those zombies from `Children shouldn't play with dead things'?”

Beastboy's vast knowledge of cheesy horror movies at long last found its home in one of Raven's conversation pieces. The mystic shuddered at hearing the word `zombie'.

“Yes.” She answered, “Exactly like one of those zombies. The lapse of judgement from the firstborn would come to be called the `resurrection conflict', and it wasn't until he killed a significant number of people did my father realize their souls weren't leaving, either. In that state, they were forced to do Mothsera's bidding, but he didn't get very far before his actions were figured out. Afraid he might be capable of putting a premature end to Humanity, Trigon imprisoned Mothsera to a separate plane, never to return to the mortal realm…but what he couldn't do was put an end to his victims…”

“So they continue to exist?” Starfire prompted further.

“With no one to guide them, they just wandered aimlessly. Most of them wound up attacking other people, and were killed, or…they killed the people. And should that have happened, Mothsera would gain more power...”

“This makes no sense!” Cyborg bolted from his space on the couch and started toward one of the windows. In light, it was making perfect sense to the hybrid, and thus the inevitable panic was beginning to assail his own mind.

“Re-animated corpses walking around devouring people, don't you think we would have heard something by now? Why the heck hasn't this been recorded here, on earth?”

 

 

Raven shook her head plaintively.
“Their numbers have always been shallow, but existent. There are accounts all over the world of unexplained cannibalism. Cases where somebody was eaten in their own home, and nobody was ever apprehended. But there was something else…”

Her eyes locked onto the floor as she attempted to manage the last bit of knowledge.

“The tome I read this in warned that if Mothsera's victims weren't completely eradicated, they would one day give him enough strength to punch a hole into this world, and he would walk amongst us once more.”

Raven's face rose to meet Cyborg's gaze.

“I think that day has come.”

He could not bear to look at her, and averted his eyes to the window.

This was all too painfully real.

 

 

“If everything you're saying is right, something has to be done, and fast.” Robin was the first to muse over a solution, “But something isn't adding up. You said your father couldn't stop this from happening…why is that?”

Raven suppressed a sigh, and wished for just once that the others would have asked what it was that she so constantly busied herself with beforehand.

“Powerful as Trigon might be, there's only so much tampering he can do with the mortal realm. Entering it and dealing with the victims, himself, would have caused other forces to oppose, but if the tome was right, he did create something in case this happened…an artifact that was said to be placed somewhere in the western hemisphere…”

“It never said what it was?” Beastboy drew himself inward as Raven's relay of first-hand knowledge neared its close.

“No.” She shook her head, “All the tome said was whoever possessed it would be directly linked with Trigon, and granted a fraction of his power.”

 

*******

 

“The book does not close through such conventional merit, Thomas. You know that as well as I.” A deep, distorted voice penetrated the burlap satchel. The room was closed off, but not locked up; its occupant secure with a closed door and little else.

“Those that you abandoned are dead, they can never return, but their souls continue to exist, and under Mothsera's eye, they shall suffer in ways you could not begin to fathom.”

“Shut up!” Thomas hissed, grasping harshly onto his hair. “Just shut up, already! I'm nothing more than cattle, a frail, unperceptive mortal. There is nothing I can do.”

“I shall silence when you realize that which I have bestowed upon you. Don me, and return. The baron of worms must be destroyed, and until he is, you will not be allowed to simply `forget' your cowardice.”

 

 

Now, he looked toward the bag, which he left crumpled upon the top of a nightstand.

“I loved them.” He murmured. “They were the only people that advocated my existence. The only affection I would ever find, and now they're dead.”

“And it is the result of your desertion. Had you remained, your family may have lived. But you still have the opportunity to rectify your actions. And at the same time, perhaps rescue mankind from the chains of destruction.”

The boy approached his satchel, and reach inside. From it, he produced a dull gray, full-face mask. A quartet of narrow, crimson red eyes dominated the brow, and contended for attention with a pentagram etched into the forehead that, like a faulty fluorescent light, glowed dull red. The lines that comprised its jaw were sharp and angular, ending in a narrow chin that just barely saved space for a wide maw, filled with razor-sharp teeth.

There was no strap to keep the hellish artifact fastened; only a series of spines upon the sides intended to burrow painfully into the wearer's face.

“You need me.” The voice cut the silence.

To this, Thomas could produce no reply. Only a fearful gaze.

 

 

**************

 

 

Rain sparingly visited Jump city in the month of June, and on the rare occasion that it would, the most offered was a frail sprinkle.

So there was a genuine surprise shared by everyone when day begun to melt into night, and the moon's steady rise into the sky was accompanied by large, dense clouds. They grew with radical speed, and come nine-o clock, the sky's play of bright stars could not be seen past a canopy of empherial dark fluff.

In due time, thunder begun to rumble, promising far more than just a placid little shower and less than a half hour later, the first few droplets of a presumably nasty storm hit the windows of Titans tower.

 

Beastboy's vague reflection stared back at him in one such window, as he watched the weather's violent, sudden shift.

“Can you believe this?” He asked before gazing over his shoulder to Cyborg.

“It was picture-perfect earlier today, and in less than two hours, it looks like something from `Storm of the century'!”

The bionic released a heavy sigh. Enough dire contemplation had been put on his plate as it stood, the last thing he wanted to do was openly converse about it, or anything else, for that matter.

“Nope.” He vaguely answered, then added, “Then again, I've heard a lot of things I'm findin' pretty tough to believe today.”

Indeed, a certain security was found in utter, bleak silence, but to do this, it would mean he was simply ignoring the fact that his world was on the brink of collapsing before him. Blissful as it may have been, turning a blind eye to the face of disaster was not in his best interest.

No, it wasn't in his best interest at all.

 

 

His only human eye harbored one of the most distraught expressions it could present.

Beastboy and Cyborg shared a great deal in common with their goofiness and sense of humor, but the latter knew when it was time to get serious.

And when that inevitable moment came, he had the tendency to let it upset him, greatly.

The attitude he adopted as a result was pure hopelessness, disheartening enough to bring the entire group down.

Beastboy knew that look well. He hated it.

 

 

“So what, you don't believe what Rae's saying?” The words left his mouth before he could even stop himself, but he didn't falter when Cyborg gave him an incredulous, slightly insulted look.

“No, I didn't say that. “ He retorted sharply, “C'mon, we might've gone up against a lot of things in the past, but can you really say any of that even comes close to this?”

The changeling thought briefly before shaking his head.

 

 

“Right.” Cyborg grated. “And that's what's got me so shook up. Zombies, man…” He shook his head, forced to believe something he simply couldn't accept.

“It just blows my mind. And why haven't we done anything about it, like Robin said we should?”

This caught Beastboy off-guard. Robin had made it a pretty good point to announce to the rest of the Titans what the future plans would be, how could Cyborg not have heard it?

 

 

“You mean you didn't notice when he stood up in front of everyone and said what was going to happen?”

“How could I?” Was his prompt, grim reply.

“It's kinda tough to focus when one of the most straight-faced people I've ever known has just told me that dead people are comin' back to life.”

 

 

“Well…” His emerald eyes fell to the ground as he attempted to rightly recall what was said.

“For starters, he said that we'd just have to sit still till that Thomas guy's on his feet again.”

Responsively, Cyborg's eyebrow arched. “And this is a good decision, because…?”

“Robin said it was mostly because we still don't know where he came from, and Rae said there's a good chance that this guy has that `artifact' she was talking about…”

A face-fault crossed the changeling's features as a less than pleasant memory visited him.

“…The way he snatched that bag away from me, I'd think he's got it in there. But anyway, she also said that probably the only reason this `Mothsera' thing attacked that guy's home was because the artifact was somewhere around there, and he knew it.”

It didn't take long for Cyborg to catch on to where Beastboy was going with this.

“So, Rae's actually saying that she wants this guy's help?”

Beastboy shook his head and shrugged.

“I guess so, it makes sense to me. I mean, we don't know what we're up against.”

The last half of his statement inwardly mortified Cyborg.

“No, I guess you're right.” He replied while shaking his head once more. “We've got no clue what we're up against.”

And at that moment, the living quarter went quiet.

So insecurely quiet.

 

*************************

 

“I didn't think you had gone to sleep.”

Thomas didn't need avert his gaze from the window; he could see Raven's reflection standing in the now yawning doorway.

 

 

“How…” He interrupted himself to turn and face her, “How much do you know? About…”

“Enough.” The mystic replied while walking further into the room, causing the door to lose registration of her presence and slide shut. Her hand gestured to the bed as she grew closer to the boy.

“Sit.”

To her unforeseen surprise, he complied, and after taking a seat next to him, she placed a hand on one of his, and begun, “I know who Mothsera is, I know where he got his immortality from, and I know why he attacked you.”

Thomas winced at the last few words, but didn't interject, allowing her to continue.

“What I don't know is where you came from, and whether or not you have what he wants.”

“The mask?”

The sudden question threw Raven off.

“Excuse me?”

 

 

The young man made no attempt to explain, and instead rose from the bed to seize his satchel, still discarded on the top of the nightstand.

Raven only watched curiously as he reached inside, and extracted the contents.

A gasp escaped dispersed from her lips as it came out into the open, and she found herself staring at two pairs of narrow, sinister eyes.

“It talks to me.” Thomas noted while offering it to her. “In my head.”

With slight detectable reluctance, she allowed the demonic mask to slip into her hands.

 

 

“…So.” She managed to work her lungs as the surprise begun to subside, although the remark that ensued was barely audible, “This was it.”

Raven brought her eyes to bear on the boy that sat before her. For once, he was staring directly at her, not putting his attention off anywhere else.

“Thomas.” Her tone strengthened, “This mask's creator is a monster. He holds no value on life. Selfish, and vain, he's no better than Mothsera, but…”

She struggled with her next words while handing the mask back to him.

“He made this for the sole purpose of destroying what you encountered. And I'm afraid that because of that…you're the only one that can wear it.”

Thomas backed away as the meaning of this became evident.

“…No…”

Despite this rejection, Raven continued, “Robin says that we're going to do everything we can to kill Mothsera, but Thomas…” She held fast to his hand, keeping him from backtracking any further.

“We can't do this alone!”

The fear that claimed his eyes was almost more than she could bear. But still, her resolve remained strong.

“I can't stand asking you to go back there, but we need you.”

 

 

-Fin-

 

 

Needlessly long author's notes

 

 

I, dear readers, am a genuine jackass.

Now, I say this for a vast array of reasons, but only one in particular has to do with the release of this fanfiction. When Frailty (my other, far larger work) gained some gauge of popularity, I swore that I would focus on that, and only that. NOTHING would disrupt its progress.

I always found it stupidly ironic how I could keep a promise with someone else pretty well, but could never do the same with myself, because over the past few weeks, I've not only broke this frail little pact, but I've thrown it on the ground, stomped on it, set it on fire, then stomped on it again.

Usually, I can manage to stuff an inventive idea for a fanfiction down, but this Splatter House thing just killed me (And the fact that there's only ONE SH fanfiction on this sight, which leaves much to be desired, didn't assuage my dilemma).

My mind was, in fact, so captured by it, I begun to fear that if I didn't do something about it, my leanings would begin to creep into Frailty, and I certainly couldn't have that.

Thus, this was birthed.

 

 

Even as I type this, I'm wondering, “Why the Hell am I `really' going to go through with calling this `Rose, tint my world'?”

If one knows what I'm referencing, surely they would agree, it's none too becoming of the fanfiction.

Well, aside from the fact that titles really don't bear that much significance to me, I went through tons of names, ranging from “A blood-red Rhapsody”, to simply “Bury me”. I very nearly stuck with “My own summer” after the Deftones song, but realized that it would probably cause a potential reader to think I was just offering some lame SI fanfiction, so that was out.

…And after going damn near brain-dead, I figured “Hey, why the Hell not just pull something from The Rocky Horror picture show?”

I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I'm always getting that damned song stuck in my head (Particularly the part where Brad starts singing…*shudder*) so, I'm sticking with that.

 

 

A brief history on Splatter House

 

 

Now, being as there was only ONE fanfiction in the SH section, I'm sure a lot of people that read this don't know the subject of my alleged crossover (I like to think of it as inspiration, but expensive copyright infringement attorneys would beg to differ)

SO, let's take a trip back to 1988, when the first Splatter House game hit the arcades of America, giving birth to a trilogy that would span to 1993.

SH was a Japanese import from Namco, and is said to have had multiple western inspirations, including Evil Dead and Friday the thirteenth.

Ironically, when it came to America, it was never released on a platform of any kind, and stuck around for vaguely less than a year before the bigots (God damn them) begun to raise Hell.

This game, they complained, was too graphic, and a complementary overturned cross that served as one of the bosses didn't make them any happier.

Now mind you, I wasn't even a year old at this particular time, and only recently has my sister download an emulator capable of playing arcade games (I've beat it already, and needless to say, it promptly became my favorite of the three games)

 

 

A few years later, Splatter House 2 surfaced here in the states, and was pretty damned well cleaned up, as opposed to its predecessor. Still, at the time, I was a wee lad, and watching my older brother play it, I would subsequently get the shit scared out of me.

My memories of 93 and the last installment of Splatter House are vague, and to be blunt, I prefer to keep it that way, seeing as it was my least favorite.

 

 

This game was, I suppose to paraphrase, was an obscure pixilated side-scroller.

You were some bald guy named Rick who wore a mask that granted you this ungodly amount of strength, and ran around punching humanoid-esque abominations, or occasionally picking up crude weapons and smashing them into walls.

The plot-line of the very first game is hardly legible, little is explained, and the ending is…confusing, to say in the least (Imagine the main character standing in front of a burning building, not trying to escape, just…standing there.)

And when SH2 rolled around, they based it off what little plot existed in the first…thus it was still baffling, and by the time the third one came up, I really just didn't care anymore.

Aside from the weird, choppy plotflow, I noticed that in every game, the mask Rick donned was…different. (The arcade version in America had to have a red mask because, as white, it bore a striking resemblance to a Hockey Mask, which of course identified to Jason Voorhees, which in turn identified to `Lawsuit')

Now, between the first and second, it was small, mainly just the strap that was supposed to keep the mask fastened (The first, it looked like some sort of velcro material, and in the second, it all just seemed to be connected)

But on the third, there was no fastening at all, the mask just looked like it was stuck on Rick's face.

 

 

…All of that may have seemed like rambling, but it is, in fact, how I managed to incorporate Splatter House into TT.

From what I could gather, the game took place on a swampy, depressing island.

That made me think of Titans Island; possibility.

Since the plot throughout much of Splatter House was shot from the get-go, I could see no reason to put Rick in this fanfiction, so I came up with Thomas Hefty. The plot-line is, I suppose, my own creation, although how events fall into place will probably mirror that of SH, and much of the bestiary are going to be that which the game had.

The `Mothsera-Greco-Roman' thing, sketchy as it is, is my own creation. I had to come up with a `Super Bad Guy' and a basic reason that all of this was happening, so I slapped that together and, after a few days of desperately trying to produce something better, realized I couldn't. I'm pretty sure that probably caused some plot contrivance with the actual show, especially concerning Trigon, but that's just the price one pays for not doing their homework.

 

 

Among the many, many things that Namco didn't go into specifics with on SH, the mask's whereabouts stood out. Citing another opportunity, I thought “Trigon!” and fancied my home-made story-line up with that little twist.

To further that, I figured I may as well change the detail of the mask around, to make it look more becoming of one of his creations…Namco had no problem with doing it at every turn, so why not me?

 

 

…Well, with all of that mess outta the way, I'm banking on a miracle that I can carry this, and Frailty on, but I can't quite fathom just letting either slip into that `never to be completed' pile, so I'm doubling my effort to do this, and do it right.

Say a prayer for me, folks, because I'm going the long run.