Titan Fall

BY : Lost101
Category: DC Verse Cartoons - Teen Titans > Het
Dragon prints: 2195
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to DC Comics or the Teen Titans cartoon. No profit is made from this work.

Chapter 1: The Straight and Narrow…Arrow?

A/N: I’m trying my hand at something new. This story is a crossover but entirely in the DC universe. Make sense? There will be elements of the Teen Titan comics, cartoon, and other DC comics. There will be sex, probably lots of it, but I want to have a lot of story to. I’m not that well versed in all the DC lore. So if someone mentions characters they want to see I’ll do a little research to see if they fit.

Roy Harper, aka Arsenal, stared down his opponent, a middle-aged man wearing a wrinkled suit and sweat stains. “$500.” He threw the cash into the center of the table. Cash, no chips, not in a place like this.

One good thing about mob controlled casinos, no one bats an eye at a 19 year old sitting at their poker tables. Cigar smoke, whiskey, and gambling. Roy downed the rest of his whiskey. Too bad he didn’t smoke anymore.

The other guy studied the face up cards, studied his down cards, and found the courage to call. He had something, nothing great but Roy was definitely behind. Time to hope for the best and- a heart hit. Roy glanced back at his cards. Still nothing. But there were a lot of hearts showing. “$2500.”

The guy threw his hand away so fast Wally would have been impressed.

Roy turned over his cards. The table laughed at the busted flush and the fish that fell for it. Roy gave the guy his best grin. Get the guy steaming.

A waitress set another whiskey beside him, bussed his empty glass. Young, maybe younger than him, and pretty. Before he could tip her, she ran her hand along his bicep. “I’ll check on you later.”

Shaping up to be a good night.

There wouldn’t be that many nights like this left. Cyborg had dropped some hints that it was time to either get serious with Starfire or get the fuck away from her.

Message received.

It wasn’t like any woman could compare to the Tamaranean sexpot. Though Donna could give Kory a hell of a run for her money. Both were lithe, with long legs and breasts any woman would pay a fortune to have.

Two girls, entertainment for the heavy hitters, walked by. High heels and higher skirts, both smiled at him as they passed.

No single woman could compare to Kory but a pair of hot young things came close…

Roy took another sip of whiskey. Top shelf. The waitress wasn’t pulling it from the rail. Maybe later. One last team event before going straight.

The dealer finished shuffling and waited for everyone to throw out their antes. The cards were dealt. Roy finished off his drink, watching his opponents faces as they checked their cards. The fish had nothing. He couldn’t get a read on the regulars. Finally, he checked his own and threw ‘em away.

He was going straight, enough. Kory deserved it. She’d stayed with him through the drugs, helped get him off the drugs.

Roy raised his empty glass, caught his waitress’ eye. He winked. She came back with a fresh drink and a bright smile. Before she set it down, something caught her eye and the smile dropped off her face.

Two men, who might have been extras from a western stood in front of the main doors, waiting for the room to acknowledge them. The Trigger Twins, cowboy hats, six shooters, and all. Loud and brash and each two girls deep. One of them, Tad or Tom, threw a stack of cash in the air, raining hundred dollar bills as they passed. “Whiskey! Keep it coming!”


They were part of Blockbuster’s crew and it was a long way from Bludhaven.

They cut a path straight through the center of the casino and up the spiral staircase. Then they disappeared down the hall toward the private rooms.

Could be something. Could be nothing. The twins were glorified muscle, not even Blockbuster’s best. Nowhere near as high up the food chain as Lady Vic or even Shrike.

Worth checking out. He was due to meet up with Kory and the Titans West in a couple days. Time to discuss transferring over and… other commitments. It’d be nice to have some intel to share with them, just in case anyone noticed he’d left the Titans East a little early.

No one needed to know about his private bachelor party.

Roy took another sip of his drink. No rush. Let the Trigger twins get buzzed or better yet, drunk. One more for himself too.

Roy stomped down the hallway, fresh whiskey in one hand. Loud, proud, and drunk. That was the twin’s style. It was right up his alley, even if he was more buzzed than drunk. At the end of the hall a bouncer sat in front of two double doors, hands clapped over his ears. Tall, strong, but portly. Passed his prime, if he ever had a prime, but threatening enough to keep the riffraff away.

Roy almost felt sorry for him. He liked country music but not when it shook the walls. The bouncer saw him, got off his stool and squared his shoulders. “Private party.” He glared. Out of shape as he was, the bouncer still had a few inches on him.

Roy put on an easy smile and thrust his drink into the man’s chest. “I’m just looking for a good time.”

“Get lost-”

Roy’s free hand caught him under the chin. In one smooth motion he dropped his drink and grabbed the guy by the head. Roy pulled him face first into his knee. The loser crumpled to the ground. Roy stepped over him. Bad guys got what they deserved.

He threw open the door.

It was a huge parlor room made of dark leather and polished oak. An oversized and overdone chandelier hung from the ceiling, so big it looked like an inverted Christmas tree made of gold and glass. Underneath the monstrosity, two large crescent shaped couches surrounded an even bigger round table.

All of it covered in blood.

Dinah once told him even the wicked get worse than they deserve.

The twins sat on opposite couches. One was sprawled out across the couch, leaning against the back rest, a naked girl in his lap. She was straddling him, had been straddling him. Fresh blood oozed out of the gaping hole in her back. Judging by the puddle she was sitting in, her partner had a matching hole in his chest.

The other twin was slumped over the table, one arm extended. A revolver, hammer cocked back, was still sitting in his severed hand. In front of him, the two remaining girls were face down in their own blood.

Six people. Without alerting the bouncer. He stared at the twins. Before either could get a shot off.

A knee caught him in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs. “Ugh-” Roy grit his teeth and stumbled back. An arm wrapped around his neck before he made it into the hall. The attacker cinched the headlock tight and grabbed Roy behind the knee. Then he dropped to the ground, leveraging his weight and throwing Roy head over ass into the room.

Son of a bitch.

Roy landed half on the ground and half on one of the dead girls. The table was behind him and so was the revolver. He didn’t need it. Roy reached into his jacket. He pulled out a U-shaped tube and thumbed the release. His composite bow took shape just in time to fend off a sword swing meant to split his head open.

Still on his back, Roy planted his boot in the guy’s chest but his opponent was already moving and rode the impact away. Roy rolled backward and found his feet.  “That was your best chance to kill me asshole.” He spat.

A smooth faceless mask stared back at him. Shaped like a skull, it started at the chin and swept over the top of his head. Part mask, part helmet, gunmetal grey except for the red lenses in the eye sockets. The attacker said nothing, just shifted his weight and raised his sword.

Six feet tall, maybe a little more, not quite 200lbs. Hard to tell but one thing was clear, all of it was muscle. If the dead bodies in the room were any indication, skull mask was good. Good thing for Roy, he was better, even with a buzz. Hell, especially with a buzz.

Roy moved his hands closer together, near the center of his bow.

Unfortunately, the mystery man had come prepared. The same gunmetal armor covered his forearms. It made up his boots. The belt at his waist and bandolier across his chest were a bad sign.

His holster peaked out from under the sleeve of his jacket. Roy reached for the capsules strapped to his left wrist.

A slash at his head derailed that move. He blocked it and the follow up slash that would have gutted him. Roy backed off a step and he hated backing off in a fight. Skull mask switched hands on his sword, reversed direction. Roy got his bow in the way, only to have his legs swept out from under him.

On his back, again. “Oh go to hell.” This time he slipped the capsule out of the holster. It hummed in his hand, stretching into a pale blue arrow. Arrow notched and bow raised-

A kick to his wrist knocked the arrow loose. It hit the chandelier and exploded, showering them in broken glass, metal, and bits of ceiling.

Roy rolled across the table, knocking over bottles and scattering pills as he went. More whiskey sounded good even if it didn’t sound smart. He pulled another capsule free despite the throbbing in his wrist. Landing a kick like that, square on his arm while he was in motion… The guy was lucky and good.

And he fast.

Roy touched down on the other side and the bastard was there. He grabbed Roy’s bow with one hand, his injured wrist the other, and squeezed.


Roy almost screamed. He would have screamed if not for the metalclad head-butt that followed.  Fucking helmet.

Roy’s legs almost gave out on him. No more arrows. Not without his right hand. So much for not needing that revolver. He snapped a quick elbow into his attacker’s mask. His attacker’s metal mask. His injured arm throbbed but it caught the asshole by surprise. Roy managed to tear his bow free. He swung blindly, senses dulled by too much pain and not enough alcohol.

The bastard, having dropped his sword when he grabbed both Roy’s hands, evaded the clumsy swings. Roy swung again and again, just to keep his opponent at bay.

Both twins always carried two guns. The entire room was a mess. Bodies and bottles and drugs, all of it scattered on the floor.

A right cross spun Roy’s head around. A punch to the gut probably cracked a rib. A hand at the back of his head and his face slammed into the table. One of his teeth clattered onto the table. His left arm was wrenched behind his back. Distantly, his bow clattered to the ground.

Skull mask clamped a hand over his mouth, held his nose shut. Pills filled his mouth. Roy held his breath, tried to break free. No good. His lungs screamed. He choked and swallowed. Skull mask held him still, left arm pinned to his back. The music quieted and slowed. The lights softened. Pulse. He could feel his heartbeat. Definitely pulse. It was slowing down, way down. At least three or four hits worth.

His attacker shifted behind him, probably looking for something. Roy tried to slip his grip. He was too slow, too weak. Skull mask clamped his hand over Roy’s mouth forcing another handful of pills down his throat.

Too much. Too much for anyone, even in his heyday. He needed to throw up and fast. But he was tired. His heartbeat was so slow he could count the seconds in between. The room dimmed but the music was still there.

Skull mask let go of him. Roy teetered to his right, fell over, and ended up on his back. One of his arms ached. His right? Yeah, that’s why he couldn’t pull anymore arrows.

Had anyone heard the fight? Over the music?

Skull mask walked in and out of Roy’s failing vision, gathering things as he went. He left the drugs and most the cash. The twin’s guns, all four, into his bag. Something small, probably a phone, went in too. It was too dark to be sure. If someone wasn’t dimming the lights, he was dying.

He should have played it straight tonight. Instead, he’d let everyone down. Not for the first time, but the last time.

Eventually, Skull mask returned, his mask barely visible as he loomed over him. He had Roy’s own bow in his hands. Roy tried to glare at his attacker, his murderer. He glared at the shadow, at the rough shape of his mask. Red lifeless eyes stared down at him.


A click and the bow retracted. The weapon went into the bag. Skull mask searched him, adding his arrow holster to his list of trophies. Then he found Roy’s communicator, steadily blinking. Its red light the only thing he could pick out in the pitch black room. The communicator beeped with each keystroke. Son of bitch. One last beep and it powered down.

Roy was left in darkness.

Please god don’t let them find me like this. In a room full of criminals and whores, drugs and alcohol in his system. Not that anyone would be surprised. They’d see his injuries and they’d know he was killed, got his ass kicked. Maybe the gangsters would dump it somewhere.

A hammer cocked back above him. The muzzle flash was the last thing he saw.

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