The air in the medbay thickened as reality closed in—six Titans, all battered, all haunted, their eyes drawn to Raven's motionless figure like moths to a live wire.
Robin broke the silence first, intent but uncertain. "We can't just stand here. We need a real plan."
Cyborg whispered, "Last time one of us woke up, something nearly exploded."
Starfire, voice tremulous but resolved, pressed, "She must be freed. But we cannot risk the city."
The debate flickered back and forth—Beast Boy's voice pitched with worry, Jinx leaning silently against a monitor, vigilantly watching for any sudden failures in the containment fields.
Wildcard watched, boot up on the edge of a cot, arms folded, eyes narrowed—not a word, not a hint. Jinx matched his quiet.
The Titans' voices rose and fell, guided by M'gann. Strategy. Risk. Mercy. No one was truly ready.
Eventually, Robin stood tall, his leadership mask back on. He faced Wildcard directly.
"We're ready," he said, her tone about half defiance and half plea. "Wake her."
There was a beat of total silence.
Then—
Wildcard chuckled.
Not just a dry smirk—an actual, open laugh, low and unbothered. He tossed himself backward onto the nearest bed, propped his head up, and visibly stretched with a dramatic yawn.
"Good luck, then!" he announced, cheerily, as if this were a party game. "Take her somewhere far away from here. Preferably where no humans live and nowhere near my tower, because I'm not playing babysitter with a sleeping timebomb. Have fun!"
He popped a mint in his mouth, glancing sideways at Jinx, who just shook her head—amused and slightly exasperated.
"Seriously, chop chop," Wildcard waved, settling in for a nap. "Tick-tock, kids, you don't have forever."
The shock rolled around the room—Robin's face a mask, Starfire's confused, Beast Boy's jaw dropped, M'gann mid-gasp.
For months, Wildcard had seemed invulnerable, in control, the one who broke the nightmares' hold—and now, with the scariest challenge looming, he just... opted out.
Robin said, voice brittle, "You're not coming?"
Wildcard grinned, folding his arms behind his head. "Sure, after the apocalypse ends. I'll make popcorn."
The moment was broken by Wildcard turning with abrupt casualness to M'gann:
"So, M'gann—how about dinner once this is all wrapped up? I promise not to steal your wallet this time."
M'gann, stunned but regaining her bearings, scolded, "This isn't the time. You know what happens if Raven loses control. What about Asmodeus?"
Wildcard gave her a lazy, razor-edged smile. "If Raven loses control, she'll probably kill you. And everything else in her way. Then, when sanity returns, she'll drown in guilt and either destroy herself or blow up the city again. Depressing, right?"
The Titans eyed him in mixed horror and bafflement. How could he predict disaster so casually—and then just shrug?
Wildcard shrugged, rolling another sweet across his tongue. "As for Asmodeus—the Prince of Lust, yeah? He's got style, I'll give him that. Drama all day. But he's just another pest with a taste for chaos. Prince of Hell, sure, but not on my level."
Robin, impatient, snapped, "He's more than dramatic, Wildcard. He nearly turned us all into his puppets. If he finishes the ritual—Who knows what he'll do?"
Wildcard rolled his shoulder, Sharingan glinting beneath half-lidded eyes. "Oh, he's a handful. Likes to play with what people want, sow discord, all the standard demon stuff. But to me? It's just grandstanding. Horns and smoke. I've handled worse."
He sat up slowly, stretching, eyeing the group.
"Just focus on yourselves. Be strong enough for the aftermath. I might leave a few messes behind once I'm done stomping His Royal Horny-ness."
He flashed his teeth in a not-quite-smile, sinking deeper into the pillow.
"Good luck. Because honestly, you're going to need it."
The Titans looked at each other—better prepared now, but still visibly shaken by Wildcard's brutal honesty and refusal to sugarcoat a single thing.
Jinx slipped quietly out the door without a word, her shadow spilling long against the gleaming floor tiles as she vanished into the hall.
Against the indigo silence of Raven's dreams, the fate of everything hung in the balance.
And then—
"Wildcard," Sage's voice cut through, lacking its usual sarcasm. "A word."
Wildcard tilted his head slightly, more out of curiosity than obedience. "That's new. The fun police turn up?"
"Drop the cavalier act for five seconds," Sage said, tone level and uncharacteristically cold. "You're strong. No one in this room doubts that. But don't overestimate yourself, and for the love of logic, stop underestimating her."
Wildcard's smirk faded by a fraction. "Her?"
A long pause crackled over the comm.
"…Raven. Mishandle her awakening, push her too hard, or fail to stabilize her, and she won't just lash out like the rest of them did."
"She'll be worse. Worse than any demon you've faced."
The Titans stayed quiet, sensing the weight behind the AI's words.
"Demons have rules," Sage continued. "Boundaries, hierarchies, limits etched into their existence. Raven's power has none. She's a half-demon with no ceiling, tied directly to forces older than their hell. If she slips, the scale of destruction won't be measured in losses—it'll be measured in how much of the planet is still here tomorrow."
Even Wildcard was silent now, thumbs hooked loosely into his belt as he eyed Raven's still form.
M'gann broke the tension, her voice quiet but sharp. "So you're saying—"
"I'm saying if you misjudge her once, there won't be a second try," Sage finished. "And if that happens, even you, wildcard… might not walk away."
The room stayed cold and still for several heartbeats.
And for the first time, the idea of waking Raven didn't just feel dangerous.
It felt final.
Wildcard exhaled slowly, his Sharingan narrowing on the indigo glow of her containment field.
"…Alright. Message received."
But his half-grin returned, thin and dangerous.
"Let's see if I can make the apocalypse behave."
The room was still humming with Sage's warning when Wildcard finally straightened, eyes flicking over each Titan in turn.
For a moment, he said nothing — just let the silence sit heavy, calculating angles in that tactical brain of his.
Then he broke it.
"Alright… let's talk reality."
The Titans looked up. M'gann's telepathic sense prickled with the feeling of his mind weighing ugly outcomes, one atop another, like ammunition in a chamber.
"We need to wake her soon," Wildcard said flatly. "If we're late, we've got a bigger mess than dealing with Asmodeus himself. Wait too long, and whatever he planted in her head grows teeth we can't pull. But…"
His gaze slid to Raven's still form — the faint indigo pulse of the containment field reflecting in his Sharingan.
"If we rush it? Same thing. One push too fast, we get a crash-out. All that bottled power, all that Trigon heritage lighting up at once…"
Beast Boy shifted uneasily. "Crash-out?"
"Think… a psychic supernova," Wildcard replied. "Her wards drop for about three seconds, her emotions drive every ounce of her power outward, and anything in range gets erased. Physically, spiritually, pick your poison."
Robin's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
Wildcard's tone darkened. "We can't wake her in my tower. Hell, we can't even wake her in Jump City. If she detonates here, it's ash and craters before anyone gets a word out — and Sage has enough to clean without scraping Titan dust out of the walls."
Starfire glanced toward the containment field, her voice low. "Then… we take her far away?"
"Which brings us to door number two." His eyes were razor-sharp now. "If we move her outside, if we try to do this somewhere abandoned, we give Asmodeus a clear shot. He's watching. He feels her power whether she's awake or dreaming. You really want to roll the dice on Raven's crash-out while His Royal Horny-ness swoops in for a two-for-one special?"
No one spoke — the implications said enough.
Wildcard spread his hands — not in sarcasm, this time, but in genuine acknowledgment of the problem.
"Two outcomes. Both bad. You don't need me to tell you how fast this gets lethal if Asmodeus and a rampaging Raven share a battlefield."
He looked at each Titan again, deliberately.
"This isn't about courage. This is about who we want to bury — because that's what a bad call means here."
Silence. Heavy. Measured.
"Now," Wildcard said, voice low but carrying, "you tell me. Do we take her into the wild and suffer the risk of a demon ambush… or keep her here in a sealed vault and pray she wakes up on our side of sanity?"
The decision hung in the air like a blade.
End of Chapter 45