19290/Titans: Exigent Isle

Titans: Exigent Isle
Date of Scene:	14 October 2024
Location:	A mysterious island in the Atlantic Ocean
Synopsis:	The Titans explore a mysterious island only to find some dark force assaulting their minds! Raven intervenes in a way that reminds us all that...we should all probably be very nice to her.
Cast of Characters:	Jon Kent, Gar Logan, Kyle Rayner, Rachel Roth, Hank Hall, Dawn Granger

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Jon Kent has posed:
The shrill blare of the alarm slices through the quiet of Titans' Tower, jolting everyone to alert. On the main screen in the command center, red flashing lights highlight an anomaly -- a strange island has been detected far out in the Atlantic, flickering in and out of existence on long-range sensors. The readings are erratic, shifting every few moments as though the landmass itself were phasing between dimensions. Jon's fingers dance over the console, pulling up more data, but the island refuses to stay in place long enough for a solid lock. "Whatever that is," he mutters, "it's not normal. Records show a research team of seismologists disappeared in a bad storm in that exact area almost ten years ago. They were never found and were presumed lost at sea."

Moments later, up on the rooftop helipad, the wind howls through the steel beams as the Titans gather around the sleek, twin-engine T-ship. The night sky is thick with overcast clouds, hiding any trace of moonlight and making the scene feel all the more foreboding. Gusts whip around them, sending loose debris tumbling across the roof. As rain threatens to commence at any moment, Jon adjusted his iconic Superboy costume, squinting up at the dark sky. "Whatever's out there, we'll find it," he says, glancing at Beast Boy. The T-ship's engines roar to life, cutting through the wind as they prepare for launch into the unknown.

Gar Logan has posed:
EARLIER,

"Don't break my plane." Cyborg said, holding the keys just out of Beast Boy's jumping distance.

"Cy it's me or it's Hank." Beast Boy tries for logic, moving around his best friend like an animal looking for a sign of weakness. "You know who'll crash the jet."

"Both of you!" Cyborg protests, "You have no appreciation for hard work or the love of a good piece of machinery."

"Man just because I don't try to kiss my car."

"Do not!" Cyborg insists, "Break my plane!"

NOW,

"Yo who wants to see me do a flip." Beast Boy calls out, his hands shifted into those of one of the great apes for better grip and a stronger hold against the storm. He's keeping half an eye on the light that'll indicate it's safe to switch to auto-pilot and another on his audience. "I bet I could do a barrel roll, I'd played a bunch of Star Fox."

Beast Boy realizes he is technically one of the adults in the room and sits up a little straighter. "Can anyone with super-vision make the place out? If we can find a place to land or hover it'll beat being stuck in this weather." There, adult. Take that, Cyborg, Beast Boy thinks, preening a little.

The ship lists to the left while he's doing this, but he compensates pretty quick. Smooth as butter, he thinks.

Kyle Rayner has posed:
Kyle's knee deep in another drawing. That alarm is hard to ignore, even with him focused on the next few pencil strokes. Closing his drawing pad, "Well. World needs an artist," his costume starts to consume his person as green energy extends all over him.

With the lantern uniform on, Kyle heads up to the T-Pad. "How bad is it?" he says trying to gauge the situation. Yes, it's bad because those alarms don't just go off. Yet, a situation can always superpass your imagination. And Kyle can be -very- imaginative.

"Well, Titans Together," and the ship lurches thanks to Beast Boy. "I'll get backup shields," hopefully it won't come to that.

Rachel Roth has posed:
Proof of Rachel Roth's good mood is in evidence as the shrill alarm is met by only the most half-hearted glower towards every corner of her room as though she can find the speaker and annihilate it... but with no active attempt to do so. Clearly she is particularly cheery today.

And why wouldn't she be? Alarm klaxons during someone's monitor duty shift means they have to handle all the paperwork. And she's not on duty. So this is fine.

Black feather used as a bookmark for proper Mystic Cred is slipped into the book she was reading, a little twist of her wrist and a dark field of energy sends the book floating over to its place upon one of many bookshelves, as her cloak lifts from the rack in the corner and sweeps about her shoulders as she steps to the door of her quarters.

And out of a portal directly onto the rooftop, out of any danger from flaring engines.

Once she's settled in a seat and buckled in, she eyes Garfield levelly. "That is inaccurate. You do an aileron roll in Starfox. Flippy is a terrible pilot." There's a lengthy pause. "He is /also/ the team's green member."

Hank Hall has posed:
Come for the reinstatement, stay for the weird shit. A very good thing he'd convinced Dawn to bring her uniform and he'd brought his. A quick split-up to go gear up and Hawk was ready and excited to go. "WOO!" he exclaimed as he bounded for the T-ship. "Let's DO THIS!" he said with real glee as he jumped on-board the jet. "Goddamn it's been a while." he said with a grin as he took a place to sit. Put me in the game, Coach, I'm ready to go!

Dawn Granger has posed:
    Oh, well, this should be fun... and here she was hoping for a chance to sit and talk to everyone, about well, everything. Including their absensence. Their return. Et all. Oh well, best laid plans of mice and blue birds of peace and paradise and all that.

    Dawn is soon behind Hank and bounding on to the T jet, following behind everyone else. TO Hank, she just eye rolls, because Hank is Hank and like, what else is she gonna do? To everyone else, they all get smiles and waves. "So, back to it eh? Let's hope what ever this is something we can handle /WITHOUT/" she looks at Hank and sticks a tounge out, "having to break everything around us."

Jon Kent has posed:
Just prior to boarding the jet, Jon scans to the east with the hyper-acute vision of his people. Frowning, he shakes his head. "Whatever it is, it's too far away, over the horizon. We're gonna have to see it when we see it." He glances over the antics and the energy of the team he's with. It brings a small smile to his face. He's so accustomed to being around the House of El...wonderful, wonderful people all of them, but definitely a few notches more sober and serious. It's nice to just...be young and powerful sometimes.

Later, as the Titans' jet descends toward the phantom island, thick fog rolls in from the churning sea, shrouding the coastline in an eerie, unnatural mist. The island seems to flicker, like a mirage on the horizon, vanishing and reappearing with each beat of your hearts. Jagged cliffs rise from the ocean, cutting into the storm-gray sky, and the dense, twisted jungle beyond seems to breathe, as if the very island is alive -- watching. No sounds of birds or animals greet you, only the relentless crashing of waves against stone, and the unnerving sense that they are intruders in a place where no one should tread.

The jet touches down on a stretch of rocky beach, slick with seaweed and debris. The air is heavy, almost oppressive, and the ground beneath your feet feels unstable, like the island might simply slip away into another dimension at any moment. As you make your way inland, the first signs of the missing research team appear -- abandoned tents flapping in the wind, shattered equipment scattered like broken bones, and a hastily scrawled message on a half-buried data pad: "The island shifts... it's watching us... don't trust what you see." Jon flashes an uneasy glance toward his teammates -- whatever happened here, it wasn't natural, and it's far from over.

Gar Logan has posed:
"And what'd Krystal do for the franchise?" Beast Boy bites back at Raven, a bit less blase as things get dicey. He moves in his seat and his legs shift into an extra pair of, well, legs. But ape legs, so fundamentally hands, letting Beast Boy exert more exact control over the T-Jet. It's still a dicey landing and Garfield's greatful for Kyle thinking to help out with that magic wishing ring of his. "I mean every team needs a moody telepathic chick but did she have to let Panther Caruso PUA her?"

Land! The Jet is dented but not ruined, and should be good for a quick escape. Beast Boy sags with relief, knowing full well otherwise he'd have to call Cyborg who would kill him and then make him feel guilty for like a month. "We did it teen gang!"

Giving Kyle a grateful nod, Beast Boy sees Superboy already out in the mess. When it comes to senses in creepy ass places he trusts Raven above everyone else but Superboy's warning is still well heeded. "Damn." Beast Boy says at the ruined camp, shifting into a fox (Raven gets a wink) and running into the remains of the tent to try and get a scent trail.

Maybe someone survived, he thinks, because sometimes you have to in this business.

Kyle Rayner has posed:
Hearing Raven reference Star Fox reference warms Kyle's heart. Alright, maybe this plane ride won't be so bad. As long as it stays up in the sky.

Getting himself situated he sees Hank burst forward full of life and energy. Like somehow the guy is ready to, literally, tackle the day. And behind him is Dawn, trying to calm the storm that is Hank. Trying to focus it, or sooth it a little.

Kyle returns Beast Boy's nod, "I'm fine. you okay over there, Fox?" a small reference to Falco. This is before they make it to the beach.

Upon landing, Kyle focuses the ring. The thing comes to life a green light eminating downard as he holds it above himself. No construct yet. He's just looking for clues. Anything that shows signs of a struggle, scuffle or anything that might be useful. Lanterns are often classified as Space Cops.

"Anyone else find anything?" he'll call out to the others. Power sets are unknown, so maybe someone has X-Ray vision, or a way to conjure up psychic impressions. Anything that goes byond normal human senses.

Rachel Roth has posed:
Rachel's mood seems to maintain balance on approach to the island, even as it seems to flicker in and out of exisetence at times, and generally gives off real big 'Not A Normal Island' vibes, she isn't leaning forward in her seat any more intently than she ever does.

Her lips even quirk ever so slightly upwards at one point. "Well, no brimstone or demon fire. So likely unrelated to Trigon."

She doesn't bother to mention that 'likely' never means 'certain' of course. But she also can't go blaming demons for all the problems of Earth. Aliens and 'weirdness' are also valid causes.

Once landing is achieved and the island is revealed in all its... generally gross, all-too-maritime glory, nose scrunches up. Purple eyes consider the scrawled message.

"Well. Now I kind of wish it was demons and fire."

She sighs and lifts off the shore to begin slowly rising into the sky, she just knows something's going to shoot at her or something.

Hank Hall has posed:
When the plane sent down and managed to not kill them all, Hawk sprung to his feet and bounced on his toes. "Hawk!" he said, triggering the transformation into his alternate form. He lifted himself off the ground and darted out of the plane, not setting foot on the land unless he absolutely had to. But, because Hank was Hank, he had to make sure to blow a kiss to Dawn before he darted out.

Priorities, people. Some things were important.

"Sooo ... we landed on Silent Hill?" he asked as he hovered in the air.

Dawn Granger has posed:
    "Dove!" Dawn Shouts as her alternate form slams in to being just behind her partner. With that, she too takes to keeping a few inches above the ground, beacuse, ewww. With Hank already Haking his way out of the Jet, Dawn follows suit flashing out and going skyward to get some views over the area. As she rises skyward, she lets the team know, "Going Skyward for Vision."

    Communication, it's important.

Jon Kent has posed:
There isn't a moment when it happens. You all just gradually become aware that Jon is not among you anymore. And anyone who knows the slightest, tiniest thing about Jon Kent is that he would never abandon his team. But he's just...not there.

As Rachel lifts up into the air she gets a better vantage point on the small island. But still, it's challenging to get a bead on things because the cursed place seems to shift in and out of existence in random bursts, creating a sense of nausea each time it does. From her height, Rachel can see what looks like an old ruin in the middle of the jungle, like a crumbling ziggurat of some sort. And at the apex of the ziggurat she can see a scintillating light source that suddenly begins to pull at her with a very powerful, intense gravitational pull that transcends physical form. It's as if it's insistently yanking her whole being toward it, not just her physical form.

Fox Garfield moves in and out of the tattered, collapsed tents. At first it seems fruitless. Whoever set this camp up did so ten years ago. But then alarms ring in his base brain as he suddenly recognizes a potent scent. It's someone he knows: Kay Challis! And the scent is extremely fresh, no more than an hour old. It seems to be leading into the jungle...toward the ziggurat.

In the glow of Kyle's ring, footsteps seem to lead from the battered, collapsed tent that the green fox just emerged from. They look like a the boot prints of a woman or a child. And they lead -- you guessed it -- into the jungle. Toward the structure.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar sniffs the ruins of the tent.

On one hand, what on earth is Crazy Jane doing with a scientific expedition to a mysterious island? It's not OFF BRAND for the Doom Patrol but as far as Garfield knew she was retired in whatever fucked up situationship she and Cliff had settled into. Logically this feels suspicious.

Logic isn't ruling Beast Boy right now: he's always a bit more feral as an animal, and for a moment all he can think of is his darling uncle, the first Arsenal, giving him the last known photograph of the first Doom Patrol. Of Rita, Cliff, Larry, Chief. They didn't even have the decency to let him die with them. There's an awful little fox noise coming from Beast Boy, and then there's the sound of a full body sneeze.

A green and black spotted cheetah screams through the jungle in the direction of the scent; Beast Boy has navigated jungle growth since he was six years old, and is literally in his home terrain here, making terrible speed through the island growth.

Kyle Rayner has posed:
"Only when we see Triangle Head, but I'm going to have a lot of questions about this group if I do," Kyle says to Hank. Honestly, the assessment is not that far off. There does seem to be a creepiness to the place, it's one Tornado siren away from feeling like the game.

"Beast Boy, and Dove should scout ahead. They're the quickest or have tracking senses," Kyle's light goes toward trail of boot prints leading into the jungle. Also, he may not be aware that Beast Boy isn't all there right now.

"I really hope nothing Demon Souls like pops out of that jungle," he pushes forward knowing whatever drove away the people must have been bad. A construct of a Lantern, an actual lantern, comes to life in Kyle's hand. The light shines brighter. "I'm either creating a light source for us or putting a target on our backs," he's not sure if the risks outweighs the reward. A bright green light against darkness is technically what being a green lantern is. He's just doing it on the ground instead of in the stars .

Rachel Roth has posed:
Without her sunny best friend about to fly in out of nowhere and put on a display of Tamaranean fury, Rachel keeps herself low... definitely for her own self preservation and not in case a certain green fox needs a hand or anything. Nope. Totally not a team player, this gal.

Sweltering jungle vines and lush canopy of trees earn a half-hearted groan. A 'Why can't all our alerts be for things in malls or other tidy locales?' groan.

The outline of a ziggurat in the distance? That earns a louder groan that she does /not/ make sure is vocalized before her communicator is activated, so everyone gets to bask in the full force of 'Our magician does not like the look of that'.

"There's some sort of structure further in. It looks spooky. Like, even for October spooky. If anyone finds a bullwhip and a silly hat on a skeleton I'm leaving."

That declaration lose a little impact when her tone sort of fades towards the end as that pulsing light begins to draw her attention and her slow forward progress through the air slows even further, until she's hanging in mid-air, seemingly mesmerized.

Hank Hall has posed:
Hawk hovered in place, keeping an eye on his team-mates and the ziggurat in the distance. He itched for some action, something to let him strut his stuff, but with Superboy having just up and disappeared he felt he needed to keep his discipline.

Watch. Wait. Be ready. If anyone moved in to intercept, his would be to stop it and pound it into paste.

But what he really wanted - craved, really - was a drink. Tall frosty cold one? Shots? Didn't really matter. Something nice and alcoholic would just hit the _spot_ right then.

Hawk blinked at the intrusion of sudden desires out of nowhere. What in the actual fuck? Drinks came _after_ the op, not _during_ it!

"Hawk to team. Any chance this place is, like, fucking with our brains or something?"

Dawn Granger has posed:
    "Guys..." over comms, it's soft, but there, as Dawn is skyborne. "Guys!!!" she adds, getting a lot more worried a lot more quickly. "I don't see Jon anywhere! He's..." pause, break, "Wait, has anyone checked on Garf?" Yeah, she's not one to panic, not the blue peace birb of order. She's far more contained than that, but this is, concering. To say the least.

Jon Kent has posed:
Up ahead, just barely in sight, there is a man walking. Feral cheetah Garfield must have run directly past him. He looks back over his shoulder at the group for a moment then turns and trots into the jungle. Nobody recognizes the man except for one person: Hank Hall. This one-time high school coach and Hank have had...business in the past. Dark business. What the hell is he doing here? He's not even dressed for an island excursion. He's wearing gym shorts, a high school sports jersey, sneakers, and a coach's whistle around his neck.

When Dawn mentions Jon over the Titans' comm system she is cut off by a cry of pain coming through the comms. It's Jon's voice. What could make /Superboy/ feel pain? Then another voice, raspy, dry, ancient. "If you want your friend to live through the night bring me the cup. Tell them, boy." Then over the comms there is a grunting, like Jon trying to resist yelling out, not wanting to become a trigger for his own team. But whatever is being done to him eventually becomes too much and he yells out again in great pain. But he manages to say: "...trap...don't come... go for help..." Then Jon's comm cuts out. Static.

The great gravitational force continues to pull inexorably at Rachel, attempting to draw her to the peak of the ziggurat even as Kay Challis's scent stays strong, leading the feral Beast Boy to the ziggurat.

Gar Logan has posed:
We should really stop this, Beast Boy tells himself as he screams by at what, nintey miles an hour? Not a lot when you have a Green Lantern, Superboy, and a teleporter on the team but sufficiently fast that it is easy not to think too much.

But if you really wanted to be there now you'd use one of the flyers. A dinosaur maybe. Mento got us to figure out dinosaurs for a reason, Beast Boy tells himself, as the rest of him just feels the wind in his fur and the siren song of revenge. Maybe it's Madame Rouge, back from the dead again. That would be just fantastic.

Help, Beast Boy tells himself, as the ziggaraut gets closer and closer.

Kyle Rayner has posed:
"A ziggurat? Aren't those things rare, ancient and need a lot of power to even work?" Kyle's not skeptical, he's just very concerned at the moment. Because usually those things mean something really bad is bubbling at the surface.

Kyle goes from Hank's words to Dawn calling out about Jon. "<"Comcheck. Lantern here. Everyone else,"> he's doing this to get a bead. To make sure everyone's about the place.

As if on cue, Dawn's concerns are founded. Jon's over the radio warning everyone about a trap. Kyle's covered in green energy as the energy shield moves around him. "How do we want to do this?" he asks the group about him. Yeah, people are missing, but it's only going to get worse before it gets better.

Rachel Roth has posed:
As Dawn's voice comes in over the comms, it's enough to snap Rachel partially free, enough for her empathic senses to reach out... and find Jon Kent missing. Not missing, really. Gone. No trace of him. No wake in the emotional spectrum of 'Oh no, that plane is about to crash!' leading off over the horizon like she's sometimes felt in the wake of Kara disappearing from one of her visits at the Tower.

"There's... something at the ziggurat that's trying to draw... well, at least /me/ in." Her lips press into a thin line, "You should all... hurry. Find anyone who can be rescued and get away."

Her voice isn't quite the usual sullen, disinterested tone. It's... shifting towards 'angry'. Not 'grumpy' or 'churlish', the kind of angry that leads to glowing red eyes and demonic changes to her physique and All That Badness.

"I'm pretty sure I can stop it, but I think we want the island... still an island until you guys can... be not here."

And then Jon's voice is coming through the comms and Rachel's voice cuts from the comms in the wake of a low, almost reverberating growl as her aerial progress towards the ziggurat slows. And then stops, and while the skies don't darken... she's suddenly harder to see. Like she's shadowed.

Well that doesn't make any sense does it? She's above the trees.

It's probably fine.

Hank Hall has posed:
Hank saw his old gym coach and, as Celine Dion said, it all came back to him now. All the abuse, all the efforts he took to protect Don. His baby brother, the only blood kin he had. Gone now, died while Hank was in a medical coma. He screamed with the full might of his super-powered lungs and stepped on the gas, rocketing towards his old gym coach.

Did it make sense that his old coach was here? No. Did Hank care?

Also a no.

Bastard was gonna _pay_ for what he'd done. He wanted blood on his claws.

Dawn Granger has posed:
    So, crap, no Jon. This is bad. This is really really bad.

    <"Lantern, we're in trouble>" dawn pipes up over comms. <"big trouble, go look for Gar please!.">

    Then there's Raven, and well, that's much much worse. <"Are you going to be okay? Do you..." oh no, Hank. Dawn catches him out of the corner of her eye and she dives for him, landing infront of him and hold her hands up. "Hawk! Babe! You're okay! You're okay!" time to be his comfort and clam again.

Jon Kent has posed:
It all starts with Rachel. It was always Rachel. Her incomprehensible blend of psionics and magic cut through all of the dark magic surrounding this island. Everyone on the team gets a sudden flash in their mind of a grizzled husk of a body bound to a throne with magical chains. Instinctually, all of you know that it is the source of this attack. And that the research team are all long dead. This is Rachel's gift to the team. Then the very next moment everyone is back on the Jet somehow still flying on their initial approach toward the mysterious island.

Everyone except Rachel.

Sensors pick up a figure -- Raven -- floating in the air above the island up ahead. Although it is dark and stormy, visual enhancements from the T-Ship confirm it's Raven. And she appears to be channeling some of her...lesser-observed powers. Those powers one might wisely choose not to be too close to when they go off.

Jon grabs his throat, which appears to be fine, like he is expecting it not to be fine. "What...what happened?" the teen half-Kryptonian asks. Magic is not his people's forte. In fact, he's quite helpless against it.

Gar Logan has posed:
So what happens when you're running at like ninety miles an hour and get abruptly teleported into a closed space?

The good news is the ensuing crash knocks Garfield out of his Little Moment. Cats, even big cats, look ridiculous when they beef it and for a moment all Beast Boy looks like is a pile of mismatched limbs and a slightly grouchy feline expression.

There's a pop, and suddenly Beast Boy isn't shy about acting like a senior Titan anymore. "Alright whoever can work the autopilot sit in the chair and make sure this thing doesn't crash! Get back from the island but keep hovering, I'm going to have to fly back in!"

"You know!" Beast Boy shouts at the sky, "I can have depth! I've got a backstory! Sometimes I'm sad about evil temples! Sometimes witches mess with my head! It's not a zero sum game! God!"

"I'm gonna make sure she doesn't fall in the ocean when this kicks her ass." Garfield says, again at generally and so the room. "Dawn there's a first aid kit with some blue pills we're all gonna need, please."

There's another pop and a genuine pterodactyl flies out into the storm.

Kyle Rayner has posed:
Kyle stares at everyone as he's on the plane. Looking about. "Did anyone else get poofed here?" he's making sure it wasn't just him. Or at the very least, seeing if he just had one very weird dream.

Breathing out he tries to make sense of it all. Everything was all Silent Hill like. Kyle could feel the cold, remember how those sand prints work. Hell, remember stepping nearby it. Everything. Yet, here he is in the jet. "That...was ood." And then Raven's seen in the air. "Uh oh," and it starts to make a little more sense. Although, he definitely wants to be filled in.

Rachel Roth has posed:
In a momentary flare of energy, Rachel disappears from view above the island, dark energy erupting out from her in the shape of a massive obsidian raven (Oh! Well that explains the codename, doesn't it?) And while there's no audible shriek from the bird on the material plane, there's a possibility mystics peering in the direction of the Atlantic ocean pick up the surge of energy, rippling lines striking out from Rachel's hanging form to rush along the contours of the island, seemingly without effect until they reach the ziggurat, darkness crashing over the ancient structure in a tidal wave of primal emotional force.

The structure is left standing, seemingly untouched, though what were surely once wind-worn and faded runes and symbols now blaze with that dark light, and ghostly chains rise from the structure to bind a withered figure atop it on a cracked and broken throne. A figure that is now firmly fixed by the four glowing red eyes of the otherwise inky black bird totem.

And as that bird's beak opens wide for another silent shriek which only that ghostly figure is buffeted by, the tall form of Raven floats forward, hood pulled low, hiding all but her cheeks and chin from the light as she hisses out. "That. Was a mistake. But my friends are very... passionate and dedicated to justice. And mercy. And for that latter? I will leave you here. Bound by whoever did this to you. But I will watch you. And if you ever lure anyone here again I will unravel your soul across breadth of creation."

There's a slow breath and Rachel's shoulders, tensed to the point of trembling easy, relax and unhunch. Her voice lightens. "And you'll still be aware. So consider carefully, that while there are worse things than death, and you are suffering one of them... there are /not/ worse things than my wrath."

And then, with remarkable timing as that vast energy projection flickers and vanishes, she quite smoothly collapses atop the conveniently arriving pterodactyl and huffs out. "I would have been able to teleport onto the... plane thing before I hit the ground. You don't have a seatbelt. This is almost certainly not considered Proper Rescue Protocol by one of the Robins."

The mfufled and drowsy 'thanks' that follows is definitely just the storm. Storms do that.

Hank Hall has posed:
Hank was good enough to go from full speed to a dead halt in not much time at all. And he had seen his old gym coach and was going to strangle the life out of him - but instead, he was inches away from strangling the life out of Dove. He shrank away in shame, roughly taking a seat and then taking as much time as he needed to get a grip on himself.

Fuck, he wanted a drink. Many drinks.