Titans – After Wildcard and Jinx Left
The hiss of the medbay door shutting was the last sound that mattered. After that came silence—thick, suffocating silence broken only by the steady beep of monitors. Wildcard and Jinx's laughter lingered in the air, their words cutting deeper than any blade.
Robin's fists unclenched, dropping limply to his sides. His jaw stayed locked, the discipline of a leader keeping him still, but his eyes betrayed him—rage, shame, and a bitter, gnawing truth. Jinx's words burned through him: "Without him, Asmodeus would've chewed you up and left nothing but scraps." That truth was harder than any punch. His strategies, his leadership, had failed. He had failed.
Starfire's glow dimmed, her hands clutching at her heart. "He… he is not kind," she whispered, voice trembling. Yet beneath the pain in her words was the flicker of reluctant truth. She had called Wildcard cruel before, and he was. But cruelty did not change the fact that he had shielded her sister when the rest of them had faltered. "But… he was victorious where we were not. That… truth I cannot ignore."
Beast Boy shuffled, ears drooping, shoulders slumped under a weight heavier than anything he could lift. "I don't get it…" His voice was small, almost childlike. "I thought we were a team. That's what makes us Titans, right? That we always got each other's backs?" He looked at the floor, blinking hard. "But the way he said it… it's like we don't even matter." His voice cracked, and he bit his lip to smother it.
Cyborg's servos whirred as his mechanical fingers clenched, then relaxed. His face was hard, but his tone was heavy. "BB… he's not wrong, though. None of us could fight back against that illusion. My systems, my weapons—useless. We weren't just beat… we were played." He shook his head, jaw tight. "That's the part that stings."
M'gann's voice was quieter, but no less heavy. She hugged herself, her eyes never leaving Raven's still form. "I wanted to resist him. I tried. But Asmodeus… twisted everything. I couldn't stop it. None of us could." Her lips trembled as she exhaled. "Wildcard just… walked through it. Like none of it touched him. That terrifies me more than what Asmodeus did."
The silence lingered, pressing on them like a weight. Finally, Robin broke it. He straightened, forcing his spine rigid, his voice clipped and cold. "He's right. We weren't ready. We treated this like another mission, another fight we could muscle through. But Asmodeus…" His eyes hardened. "…he's not fighting us as heroes. He's fighting us as a god against kids."
He stepped to Raven's side, his gloved hand hovering just above hers. Her skin was pale, her breath shallow, yet even unconscious, she looked heavy with burden. "This isn't just about saving Raven anymore," Robin said, his voice low but firm. "This is about survival. Ours. This city's. Because if we don't figure out what he wants and how to stop him—we're already finished."
He turned to the others, each word sharpening. "We need to get stronger. We need to be smarter. And we need to figure out what his plan is—before he finishes it."
Starfire's brow furrowed. "He spoke of a… ritual, yes?"
Robin nodded grimly. "The Crimson Heart. That artifact was used to regenerate Slade's corpse—the vessel Asmodeus was using. The ritual was interrupted when Wildcard stole a fragment of the Heart. But Asmodeus still wants it. And for some reason… he wants Raven." His gaze flicked back to her unconscious form.
M'gann's voice wavered. "Do you… know anything about the Crimson Heart, Raven?"
Raven stirred faintly, her eyelids fluttering open for only a moment. Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "No… not yet. But I'll find out. I have to." She coughed lightly, her eyes distant. "If he wants me… it's connected. I need to know why."
Cyborg leaned closer, frowning. "Then we're running out of time."
M'gann suddenly stiffened, her eyes glowing faintly as she turned toward the city skyline. "I can feel him. Everywhere. His presence is like a storm cloud. He's… feeding. Manipulating people, twisting emotions, draining them. He's building power."
"Then it won't be long," Robin concluded, his tone sharp, clipped. "If Raven and Wildcard are his main targets, he'll come for us soon. We need to be ready."
A silence fell again, heavier than before.
Beast Boy exhaled shakily, then muttered, "Man… I hate to say it, but Wildcard scares me more than Asmodeus does."
No one disagreed.
The Titans, once bound by trust and friendship, stood now in the medbay as something else entirely—not a family, but survivors forced to face the truth. They were pawns in a war they didn't understand, staring into the shadow of a god, with only the cold reminder of their failure echoing in their ears.
And the real battle had only just begun.
***
Wildcard & Jinx – At the Restaurant
Wildcard had kept his word. He and Jinx sat across from each other in the cozy corner of a local restaurant, the city's chaos muffled by quiet music and the clink of plates. For once, Wildcard's mask and suit were gone—just a handsome face and golden eyes aglow in the lamplight.
As the waitress arrived, she set a steaming spread before them: omelets, pastries, fruit, and—randomly—extra-black pudding.
Jinx eyed the unfamiliar dish suspiciously, poking at it with her fork. "Did you jinx this? Because we didn't order this."
The waitress smiled apologetically. "It's new on the menu—on the house, just for you two."
Jinx raised a brow but shrugged, leaning back in her seat with playful skepticism.
Wildcard, ever polite, looked up at the waitress, his smile gentle but grounded in honesty. "Forgive me, but I'm vegetarian."
The waitress blinked, startled by the intensity of his unusual golden eyes. She realized with a blush that she'd lingered too long, fumbling for words. "I—I'm so sorry! I'll bring something better. Just for you."
Wildcard nodded, unfazed. "Thank you."
Jinx snorted, sipping from her coffee. "Well, well. Pretty boy's got more than cards up his sleeve. Didn't peg you for a vegetarian." Her eyes flicked over him, sharp with mischief. "And what's this? No mask, no spooky trench coat, no shadows? Just you, sitting here like a regular guy. Color me surprised."
Wildcard lifted his cup, the faintest curl of a smile on his lips. "Doesn't matter. M'gann already knows my face."
Jinx's eyes danced with mischief. "Couldn't you just erase her memory? Would save some privacy."
He shook his head, unwavering. "No."
Jinx grinned, sensing something deeper. "Wow. You, sentimental? Or just soft for mind-readers?"
"Her mind is stronger than mine," Wildcard admitted, his tone calm, without ego. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. To be honest, she's one of the strongest psychics in the world."
That made Jinx pause. She leaned back, raising a thin brow. "Strongest, huh? Then how come she got snagged in Asmodeus's trap like it was nothing?"
Wildcard set his cup down, fingers tapping once against the porcelain. "Being strong doesn't make you immune. Minds aren't walls—they're doors. And Asmodeus…" His gaze darkened, Sharingan flickering faintly before he blinked it away. "He isn't ordinary. He's the Demon of Lust. A Prince of Hell. His domain isn't just illusions; he twists desire itself, makes you doubt the truth inside your own head. Temptation and corruption are his weapons. He doesn't batter down the door—he convinces you to open it yourself."
For once, Jinx didn't fire back with a quip. She stirred her coffee instead, expression unreadable.
The waitress returned then, sliding a small dish of custard and fruit onto the table. "Our best dessert," she said with a smile
"Thanks," Wildcard said softly, his golden eyes kind but unreadable. Jinx smirked at the sight, her mind already spinning with new angles to tease him.
Jinx took a slow bite of custard, then smirked over the spoon.
"So… if M'gann's untouchable, and Asmodeus is untouchable, that leaves me wondering…" Her eyes glinted pink in the low light. "What about little Miss Indigo? You keep jumping in like you actually care whether she lives or not."
Wildcard didn't look at her. He set his cup down, the faint scrape of porcelain against wood cutting sharper than words.
"It's not about caring," he said flatly. "It's about preventing Asmodeus from getting what he wants."
Jinx leaned back, grinning wider. "Sure. And if she wasn't on his radar, you'd let her burn, huh?"
He finally turned his gaze on her, golden eyes steady, unblinking. "Don't mistake necessity for attachment."
The weight of his tone pressed into the air between them—cold, immovable. Jinx's smirk faltered for a second before she chuckled, flicking her spoon at him.
"Mm. Keep telling yourself that, Wild. I'll bring popcorn for when the denial cracks."
She licked the custard from the edge of her spoon, casual, playful, but her gaze lingered—curious, calculating.
Wildcard didn't respond. His eyes were already back on the glass, on the reflection of a city that didn't know what was coming.
Jinx stirred her coffee lazily, eyes flicking toward him.
"So… if Asmodeus is one of Hell's princes, how do you actually plan to beat him?"
Wildcard didn't answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, the low light catching the sharp lines of his face. For a moment, silence stretched—just the hum of the restaurant and the faint clink of cutlery around them.
Then his lips curved into a grin—feral, edged with something dangerous.
His golden eyes gleamed, not with calm or certainty, but with that raw, untamed hunger Jinx had only seen when he fought.
It wasn't an answer. It didn't need to be.
Jinx blinked, then laughed under her breath, shaking her head.
"...You're insane."
"Maybe," Wildcard said softly, the grin still carved on his face.
As her laughter faded, the playful glint in her eyes lingered a moment longer. For the first time, she didn't just look amused—there was a shimmer of something deeper. Intrigue. Like she was drawn closer for reasons she couldn't quite name, caught by the madness in him as much as the mystery.
She stirred her coffee again, slow and thoughtful, as if hiding the faint curl of intrigue tugging at the edge of her smirk.
And that was all.
After some time they finished there meal.
The plates were cleared, leaving only empty cups and the faint sweetness of custard lingering in the air. Wildcard slipped the leather check holder closer and, without hesitation, pulled a wallet from his coat. He paid smoothly, the motion practiced, effortless.
Jinx caught sight of it and froze mid-sip. Her eyes widened, and for a second, even she couldn't keep her composure. "...No way. That's not—"
Wildcard rose from his chair, tucking the wallet back into his pocket with the same nonchalance someone might reserve for their house keys. "Come on," he said simply, tone light, as though the world outside wasn't burning and they hadn't just been talking about demons.
The two of them stepped out into the evening air, neon signs buzzing, streets alive with chatter and passing cars. Jinx walked a step behind, still processing what she'd seen.
Finally, she asked, voice laced with disbelief and a curl of amusement:
"When?"
Wildcard glanced at her sidelong, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "When what?"
Jinx's smirk sharpened. "When did you steal Robin's wallet?"
For a moment, silence hung, and then Wildcard's grin broke wide—sharp, smug, golden eyes gleaming like he'd just revealed a punchline only he fully understood.
"From the start."
Jinx's laugh burst out, rich and unrestrained, carrying down the street. She shook her head, still chuckling, still eyeing him with that strange cocktail of disbelief and fascination.
And though her laughter rang true, beneath it sat a flicker of something else—something she didn't want to name. Not amusement. Not play. But intrigue. A dangerous pull toward the man walking beside her, the madness in his grin echoing somewhere uncomfortably close to her own.
Wildcard walked a step ahead, his shadow stretching long beneath the neon glow, while Jinx lingered half a beat behind—smirking, watching, drawn in despite herself.
End of chapter
Author's note: Don't forget to add this story to your library and drop a Power Stone to show your support!