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Titans West
The Last Days of Disco
Mal Duncan finished blowing trumpet to a round of applause. The African-American took a moment to catch his breath, took a little bow and leaned into the microphone. "Let's hear it for my good friend, guitarist Shaw McGraw," he said to the audience as he gestured to a dark haired young man sitting on the stool with his instrument. The patrons of Gabriel's Horn applauded once more.
"Thank you," said Shaw. "And thank you too, Mal, for joining me on that last number."
Mal gave his friend another bow, grabbed a towel from a nearby stool and stepped down from the stage. Shaw, meanwhile, began another song. Mal started towards the bar, briefly pausing a few times to accept some praise for folks.
When he got to the bar, a young man with wavy dark hair handed the club owner a gin and tonic. "Thanks a lot, Bobby," Mal said as the drink refreshed his parched throat. "You happen to see where my lovely wife got off to?"
Not looking up from the new drink he was mixing, the bartender said "I think I saw her heading towards your office in back."
"Thanks, man," Mal replied. "I've got to go back there to put down my horn anyway. I'll see if I can scare her up." With drink in one hand and instrument in the other, he made his way towards the back of the club.
"Karen?" Mal called out as he opened the door to the room in back. There was a desk, a couch, some file cabinets and such. Also a few cases of liquor that needed to go back in the store room. Everything he expected but no wife. Mal laid his trumpet back in its case. "Weird."
He approached the bookcase to put the instrument case back on the shelf, and that's when he noticed something. The bookcase was slightly a jar and not fully back in its locked position. Hmmm, he thought. Mal went over to the office door and locked it. The last thing they needed was some of the staff or customers wandering in and then down the hidden stairway.
He then returned to the bookcase and gave it a slide. The wall-unit moved along its hidden track enough to reveal the walkway to the hidden chamber below the club. I wonder why Karen's down in the Titans Lair. Mal figured there was only one way to find out, so he stepped into the recessed passage way and went down.
The lights from the lower room were enough to illuminate the metal stairs. He listened carefully and heard muffled voices coming from the computer room. One was that of his wife; the other was also rather familiar to him. Mal poked his head into the room to find Karen Duncan talking with a golden skinned alien girl with short blonde hair. "There you are, Karen," he said. "Weren't enjoying the set, or was it my horn playing in particular?"
"Oh stop it, you," the African-American woman in red said as she gave him a little squeeze. "You know I love how you play. Best lips around." She turned to the alien girl who was dressed in a comfy pink sweater and a pair of jeans. "I was just getting Arisia here set up."
"I didn't mean to bother anyone," the Green Lantern apologized. "I was just like sitting around with nothing to do for once on a Saturday night, so I like figured maybe I could use the time to catch up on the team history. Its not like there was anything decent on TV."
"Besides," Arisia continued, "since we're heading East next month as a group, I thought reading up on the older adventures would like be helpful. That way I'd like feel at least like I knew something more about the New Titans group, you know."
"That's no problem at all," Mal smiled. "In fact, that sounds like a great idea for you. Karen can show you how to bring up the files in the archives. All the old adventures are documented there."
"That I can," Karen said. She turned back to her husband. "Did you need me to do something, honey?"
"After you get Arisia set up," Mal said, making his way back towards the steps, "we could use a hand getting ready for closing. I wanted to get Shaw his pay when he was finished with his last set."
"I'll be up in a minute," Karen said. She reached over to the keyboard and punched up a program. "This is pretty easy to follow, Arisia. It'll step you through whichever files you want." The screen flashed a Titans logo followed by a menu system. "Happy reading."
"Thanks, Karen," Arisia said. "Wow, like I didn't realize running your own club was a lot of work. Here I thought it'd be totally cool, you know."
"It can be a lot of fun," Karen admitted. "But it is a lot of hard work too. You'd think I would have remembered that before I agreed with Mal to do it again."
"You guys ran a club before?" Arisia asked.
"Sure did," Karen nodded. "The first Gabriel's Horn back in New York. You'll read all about it in the files."
"Awesome," Arisia said.
"Tell you what," Karen said as she headed towards the stairs. "If you're still here when we finish with closing and such, maybe I can convince Mal to tell you the story of our last days at the old disco. I don't think that adventure ever made it into the archives."
"For sure," Arisia said. And she set about the task to reading the older adventures of the Teen Titans.
The teenage girl kept busy for the next couple hours, thrilling to the exploits of Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, Wonder Girl and Speedy. She found it interesting to learn about the Mad Mod's past and came to appreciate the man more once she realized how far he'd come in turning his life around. She also enjoyed reading about how Loren Jupiter had helped the teen heroes out after they felt responsible for the death of Dr. Arthur Swenson. That was when they met Mal and Lilith.
By the time Arisia had gotten up to the point where the Bumblebee and the Joker's Daughter had joined the team, Mal and Karen appeared in the computer room once more.
"A little bee buzzed in my ear and said you wanted to hear a story," Mal said with a smile as he pulled up a chair.
Arisia perked up her ears in anticipation. As riveting at the text on the computer had been, she was always partial to hearing stories told aloud.
***
The place was Farmingdale, one of many small communities situated on Long Island and about twenty five miles east of New York City. The time was October of 1982, almost seven months after the Teen Titans had disbanded for the second time in their short career as a team.
The others had gone off to pursue their interests. Dick Grayson was back at Hudson University in New Carthage, working on his college degree. Duela Dent was seen active around there as well. Donna Troy, with her roommate Sharon, had moved out to San Francisco for a time and was completing her studies in photography. Wally West, after his graduation from high school in Blue Valley, was giving college a try out in the Midwest. Garth had returned back to Atlantis, given his health problems earlier that year. Roy Harper hadn't dropped back in for awhile now. The last time was when Great Frog played a gig at the club earlier that year.
That left Mal Duncan and Karen Beecher minding the business that the Titans had set up a year or so prior. While they had started out doing fine, things were getting a bit rougher to juggle with just the two of them. One afternoon, as they were stocking the bar, they discussed just that.
"Mal, baby, did you get Kyle or Sally on the phone?" Karen asked.
"Kyle's laid up from a motorcycle accident," Mal said. "I left a message with Sally's roommate. I'm hoping she'll call back any minute."
"Me too," Karen said. "Ever since I went back to school, the workload's been a killer. I really need to study tonight for my physics mid-term."
Mal leaned over and gave his girlfriend a kiss. "You leave whenever you have to, honey," he said. "Between the two of us, you're the one with big career aspirations. 'Sides, given the way the crowds have been of late, I think we can handle things on a skeleton staff."
"Okay, baby," Karen said, reaching for her purse. "If you're sure its no problem..."
Mal shooed her along. "No problem at all," he said with a smile. "Go, study, and ace that sucker tomorrow, hear?" Karen nodded and left out the front door.
Mal's smile faded. "Don't know how long I can keep this front up," he said to himself. "With all her stuff at school, Karen don't need me bringing her down with bad news." Mal grabbed a small book from behind the bar and flipped it open. There, in black and white, the numbers showed the slowly increasing debt that the Gabriel's Horn club was incurring.
Disgusted, Mal closed the book and slipped it back in its place. "I don't want to call Dick to see about getting a loan. I know he'd get me one faster than Wally could take out a whole army of villains. Truth is, I need to see this through on my own terms! For once, Mal's not gonna be the screw-up Titan."
Mal was his own worst critic. For years, he always felt he had to try and prove himself, first to Mr. Jupiter and later to his own friends on the team. Unlike Donna, Wally and Garth, he didn't have any superpowers. Of course, that never stopped Dick and Roy, but they both were trained by two of the best in the business. How could the former partners of Batman and Green Arrow be anything less than fantastic? All Mal had was his fists and his determination. For awhile last year, he did have a magical ram's horn which, when he blew it, would allow him to even the odds in any fight. Sadly, that horn had turned up missing a few months after he acquired it, once more forcing Mal to rely on other means to being a super-hero. Even then, it was with borrowed equipment. He wasn't standing on his own.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. Opening it, Mal stared at the small diamond ring inside. "No, if I'm gonna ask Karen to marry me, I have to be able to take care of her myself."
He put the ring back in his pocket, then he grabbed a towel that hung at the one end of the bar. Mal started to wipe down the bar. It'd only be a few hours until opening time. He hoped that tonight would be different than things had been lately, that there would be a huge turn out to see the band. If not, there was no telling what might happen to the club and his dreams.
The band showed up to perform, but sadly the crowd was not as big as Mal would have liked. Sure, there were about fifty or so that came out to party that night, most of whom were big fans of the Slyvers for a number of years. But it had been over five years since the band had hits with Disco Fever, Love Line, and Hot School Dance. They performed their sets, got paid, and hustled off quickly while the DJ played on until closing.
As Mal watched the lights bounce off the disco ball, he looked at the lighted dance floor and sighed. About a half dozen regular remained to close the place. He even let most of the bar staff go early too.
I gotta admit, Mal thought to himself, disco's on its way out, and with it this club. Kids today are into the new wave and punk sounds. They'd rather go into the city to places like Geebee Ceebee's and such. He turned his back to the dance floor and started to cap off the bottles of liquor behind the bar. Maybe it's time to just give up this business.
With his back still turned, the twenty year old young man noticed someone suddenly rush onto the dance floor. "What the...?" Mal said to himself. What struck him odd was that the man wore a dark leather jacket with a ski mask over his face.
Mal whirled around quickly, planted his two hands on the surface of the bar and vaulted over it with ease. "Hey, man!" he shouted. "What you up to?"
The man in the ski mask laughed as he thrust his hands straight into the air. "I'm here to burn down the house!" he snarled. And with that, twin jets of flame launched from his hands to set the ceiling ablaze.
The few patrons and staff still there began to scream and make for the exits.
The man in the mask laughed again and tossed flaming balls at their heels, setting more of the place afire. "Burn, baby, burn," he said. "I'm giving you a disco inferno, Duncan!"
Mal darted for the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. He hoped he'd be able to put out some of the flames with the chemicals, or at least enough so that he could get to the arsonist responsible.
The man stood amidst the flames and laughed, the fire dancing about him. "You messed up my plans once before, boy," he said. "So it's only fitting I come 'round and mess with yours."
"Yeah?" said Mal as he got closer, ignoring his own personal safety as he cut a path through the flames. "We'll just see about that!" When he got close enough to the center, Mal dropped the canister and dove for the man.
The guy thrust out one arm to block the attack. "No way, Duncan!" he said. "This time, you're the one going down for good!" His free hand started to glow red. With an evil grin on his face, the man starting to bring his hand down towards Mal, palm opened. "Let me brand you with my mark before you die, hero!"
Mal lunged forward and tried to gouge at the man's face. Instead, all he got was a handful of fabric. At the same time, he swung up his right foot and slammed it in the man's unguarded chest.
"Hey!" the man exclaimed, pulling back.
The mask pulled off his head, and Mal stared at the face of the man with dark, wavy hair and thick eyebrows. It was a face Mal had seen before, not too long ago. "You!" the African-American male said with surprise.
The guy tried to bring his flaming hand down, but Mal rolled backwards out of reach. The fist started the floor afire. "You'll never get out of here alive, Duncan!" he vowed. He shot a few more fireballs in random directions, having lost his target amidst the rising flames and gathering smoke.
He coughed a few times, and then he made his way towards the exit he'd left clear for himself.
Mal had rolled back towards the bar. Man, I don't believe it! he thought to himself. Of all the people to attack the Horn, I never would have figured we'd see him again! But I can't go after him yet! Gotta take care of this fire first!
Once behind the bar, Mal pulled the phone down to the floor where he could breath easier. He quickly dialed the operator. "Yeah, this is an emergency!" he said into the handset. "Got us a major fire here at the Gabriel's Horn discotheque, number 47 Brown Street near Blaisdell! Send help fast!"
Mal hung up the phone, took a cloth from behind the bar and wet it in the sink. He then placed the wet cloth over his mouth and crawled along the floor towards the front exit. He remained down low to avoid inhaling too much smoke.
Just as he was about to reach the exit, he heard a loud crash. The center ceiling beam above the dance floor collapsed, sending a major portion of the roof crashing down into the fire. "Great," Mal thought as he rushed out the door. "This fire's gonna put us out of business permanently."
It wasn't too long before the fire department arrived to handle the blaze.
Mal had used the pay phone just down the block to call Karen as well, and she quickly came down to be with him. "Baby, are you hurt?" she asked.
"Only my pride, Karen," he replied. He watched the fire as it slowly dwindled.
"Well, the lair below should be fine," Karen said. "The others made sure it'd remain protected, if nothing else than to keep it a secret."
"Yeah, true," Mal said. "Still, this ain't the first time we've been attacked here. Remember when the Flamespasher Twins attacked us back in the summer? This is the second time the Horn's been attacked by our foes, using it as a connection to me. Maybe it's better if the place is burned to the ground!"
"Baby, don't say that," Karen said.
"Why not?" Mal countered. "If we've lost everything - the bar, the sound systems, the dance floor - it'll be too costly to rebuild. We can't afford that!" She didn't know what to say to him. "Besides, we've got something else to do first! We've got to go after the man who did this!"
A day or so later, when the couple was allowed to return to the burned out shell of the building, Mal still had the same determined look in his eyes as he did the night of the fire. Karen had not seen him this intense in a long time.
They were able to access the secret entrance to the Titans Lair and descended the stairs to the underground headquarters. The place ran on its own separate generators, so they didn't have to fumble around in the dark.
Mal went over to his locker, opened it and took out a blue uniform with yellow reinforcements all over it. "We'll need to get this stuff out of here soon," he said as he slipped on the exoskeleton uniform that increased his strength, "but first things first!" He then pulled out an all blue suit, yellow boots and gloves, a yellow helmet and shield. He started to don them as well.
"What do you think you're doing?" Karen asked firmly.
"What does it look like?" Mal replied, placing the helmet over his head. "I'm going after that guy who did this! He's obviously escaped from jail and on some revenge kick to mess up my life! I'm going to track him down and put him back in the slammer where he belongs!"
"Hold on one second," Karen said. "First of all, you need to chill out! You've been runnin' hot since the other night, and when you're angry you don't see straight!
"Second, last time I checked, we were a team, remember? The Guardian isn't going anywhere without the Bumblebee at his side, got it?" She opened her locker to remove a black and yellow striped costume. "You just give me a minute to slip into something practical."
"Fine," Mal said. "Of course you can come. They attacked our place after all."
"Right," Karen said. "Think we should call in any of the others? After all, the Horn was the Titans' business too."
"No way!" Mal said, gesturing his hands. "They left us in charge, so we'll handle it! I don't need to go running to Robin or the others every time something comes up! We can handle this by our selves."
"Fair enough," Karen said as she donned her bee-like goggles. "I trust your call on this one."
"We can handle it!" Mal reiterated. "Besides, I did some checking. This guy's running solo. All the rest of his former gang are still in jail. He's the only one whose on the outside, broke out a couple weeks ago."
"So, what's your plan?" she asked.
"First, the Guardian and the Bumblebee are gonna drop in on the prison," he said. "I think maybe we can get one of those former gang members to give us a clue where to find our little arsonist. Then, we pay the guy a surprise visit to return the favor he did on us."
And with that, the two Titans took off for a correctional facility in upstate New York.
At the New Paltz Correctional Facility for Men, the two costumed heroes sat in a visitation room with one of the prisons. A guard stood by the door to monitor the situation.
"Where's your leader?" the Guardian asked. "Where's Steve Macchione?"
Across the table from them sat a red haired man with glasses. He had a scholarly look to him, which is why he earned the nickname of the Professor growing up. "He broke out of here weeks ago," Gerry Harrigan said. "Didn't bother to tell any of us he was planning it nor where he was heading."
"I don't buy it!" The Guardian said, slamming his fists on the table.
"Ease up," the Bumblebee told her teammate. She then turned to the prisoner. "Gerry, did Steve talk about any visitors he had prior to his escape? Family, friends?"
The red head shook his head. "He met with some lawyer. A blonde haired guy dressed in real fancy threads. Some guy I never heard of. Beyond that, nothing. I don't recall him having any other visitors in the past year or so. None he ever mentioned at least."
"That's certainly more than any of the other Wreckers would tell us," the Bumblebee said.
The Guardian spun back to the table. "Yeah? Well I think he knows more!" He lunged across the table and grabbed the prisoner by the front of his shirt. "Well, Professor, is that all you know?" The intensity in the hero's voice and the look in his eyes had the prisoner very concerned.
"Hey!" the guard said as he started to move from his position.
"All right," Gerry said. "All right! Maybe there is something more."
The Guardian released him, allowing the man to sit back in his seat. "Yeah?" asked the hero. "And what might that be?"
"I doubt Steve'd go back to Gotham," Gerry said. "Too many folks on Clemont Street know him. The police would have checked there any way. But he had been talking while he was still in here. Talking about how he missed the smell of fresh air, and going hunting and fishing at this cabin his uncle owns. He used to go there a lot during the summers growing up; he'd always come back and tell the rest of us of his adventures there."
"Might you know where this cabin is?" the Bumblebee asked.
Gerry nodded.
"Smart man, Professor," said the Guardian.
A couple hours later as the sun was setting on the horizon, the two heroes approached a small cabin in a clearing of the woods. From the old chimney that showed some signs of crumbling, they could see a steady stream of dark, black smoke rising. "Well, someone is certainly there," the Bumblebee said.
"It's got to be Macchione," the Guardian said. "He won't know what hit 'em!" And with that, the young man charged from the brush towards the front door.
"Wait...!" the young woman started to say. But already her boyfriend was on the attack. "Mal, what am I going to do with you?"
Inside the cabin, a dark hair man heard a loud thumping on the front porch. "What the...?" Steve Macchione wondered as he put down his magazine and rose from the old sofa. Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the front door. In another few seconds, the wood shattered into splinters as a golden shield burst through it. He caught a glimpse of the man wielding the shield. "You!"
The Guardian burst through the rest of the damaged door. "That's right, Macchione!" the hero said. "Time for a rematch, sucker!"
A broad smile crossed Macchione's lips. "You don't know when to lie down and play dead, do you, Duncan? Fine by me!" His hands began to glow slightly red as he summoned up his power. "You think you got what it takes to play with me? I don't think so! See, while you were just a kid playing with cars, I was mastering demolitions with the military. So, I know how to play with fire!"
"Yeah?" said Guardian, taking a defensive stance. "What I heard was that you was discharged for not followin' orders! Ain't no honor in gettin' kicked out, is there?"
Macchione snarled at him. "Oh yeah? Well, that was the past, boy! Now I've got power, real power!" With one hand out flat, he summoned forth a flaming ball of fire that begin to burn hotter and hotter in intensity. "I was rotting away in that prison until an opportunity came to me. I'd have done anything to be out of there, even sell my soul. A ghostly image came to me and offered me real power and a chance to escape. All I had to do was destroy you!" He hurled the flaming ball at the hero.
With amazing skill, the Guardian rolled out of the way as the fiery attack shot out the open door. And in the back of his mind he wondered, "A ghostly image gave him powers and told him to destroy me? Could it have been...?"
"Come on, loser!" Macchione taunted. "I'll take you down like I did your little disco! When I'm through with you, there won't even be enough ashes to put in a vase for your friends to mourn! I beat you before, and I'll beat you again!"
Macchione charged the hero.
As the hero threw up his shield to block the man's two fisted attack, his mind began to wonder as the man's words rang through his ears. He did beat me days ago back at the Horn! I lost that fight, but I'm still here!
He was referring, of course, to the words the angel of death Azrael had said to him the first time he encountered the Wreckers over a year ago. Mal had been on death's doorstep but was given a chance to battle Azrael for his life. The young man managed to beat the angel but was warned that if he ever lost another fight that he would die. Another angel, Gabriel, who refereed the match had given Mal a magical rams horn as well, to help him in his future fights. Originally the young man it all a hallucination, but the reward was real and lying next to him when he awoke. Often after that, in times of battle, Mal would hear Azrael's words in his head as clear as day.
Macchione stepped back and hurled a twin barreled barrage at the hero. The Guardian dodged the first blasts then blocked the second ones with his shield. The stray fire began to catch the various sparse furnishings in the cabin as well as the walls.
But, the Guardian continued to think to himself as he fought, ever since I discovered that the horn from Gabriel was missing, I haven't heard Azrael's voice neither. It's almost as if the two were connected somehow! Its like the curse went away when the horn did.
Finally, a back draft blast nailed the Guardian squarely, knocking him clear out of the cabin. Macchione laughed. "Gotcha now, loser!" He strode through the burning fire as if he were immune to it. He appeared on the front porch of the burning building and eyed his target on the ground before him. "Time for you to die, Duncan!"
"Hey, hot head!" a female voice called from the air. As Macchione turned to it, the Bumblebee shot sticky, honey like goop into his face. "That should hold you for a moment." She swooped down to where her boyfriend was slowly coming around from the blast. "Hey, Guardian, get your head in the game! My honey-mixture won't keep him blinded for long."
The Guardian shook his head to clear it. "Love that honey, honey," he said. He then charged the man who was still trying to burn the mixture off his face.
"Hey, Macchione!" he called. Still blinded, the man turned towards the voice. "Lights out permanently, sucker!" The Guardian swung back his fist and then let it go. He slammed Macchione hard into the jaw, knocking him backwards to the ground. In another moment, the man was down for the count.
"Yes!" the Guardian cheered, his shield held high in victory. The flames of the burning cabin reflected of the shield's shiny surface. For a moment, he reveled in the victory.
Later, Karen and Mal returned to the small apartment they had been sharing. The woman could tell by the worn expression on his face that the events of the last few days wore heavy upon him.
Karen came over to the couch where Mal had plopped down. "Can I get you something, baby?" She asked sweetly. "Something to drink or maybe a back rub."
Mal looked up and caught sight of her beautiful brown eyes. They seemed to melt away all the negative feelings that filled him, acting as a beacon to what was truly important in his life. "No thanks, baby," Mal said with a smile. "Just having you around is enough." Then, suddenly, an impulsive thought came to him.
Mal bolted up from the couch. "Sit," he said. "I'll be right back." He then darted off towards the back room.
"What are you up to, mister?" Karen asked as she sat down.
Mal appeared back in the archway. "Close your eyes," he said. "And keep them closed until I tell you to open them, okay?"
Karen let out a deep sigh then did as he asked. "You're starting to act weird, Mal." She felt him grab her hands gently, and then he took her left hand into his. There was the sound of some scuffling. She then felt an odd sensation as something cool slipped onto one of her fingers. "Is that...?"
"Open them," Mal said cheerfully.
Karen did so, glanced at her hand and let out a squeal of delight.
"Karen Beecher, will you marry me?" Mal asked. She threw her arms around him, giving him a great big hug that almost knocked him off his one knee. "Is that a yes?"
"Of course that's a yes," Karen replied. The couple had been living together for the past few months, so she had hoped it would lead to a proposal. "Was there ever a doubt in your mind?"
"No," Mal admitted. "Not when it came to you. Despite all the stuff that's been goin' down lately, there's always one thing I can count on: your love. Somehow this just seemed like the right time to ask you to be my wife."
Karen gave him another great big hug and a kiss. "No matter what life throws at us, we'll be there facing it together."
***
"And that's pretty much where that story ends," Mal said to Arisia. "A short time later after we got the insurance money for the club, we moved out here to California. Karen finished her studies and then, with a recommendation from one of her professors, got an internship with S.T.A.R. Labs. I tried my hand at being a novelist, writing about my experiences growing up in a fictional context. I also took a job tending bar and occasionally did some musical gigs as well."
Mal paused for a second, stretched and let out a big yawn. "Excuse me," he said.
"No problem," Arisia said. She turned to Karen. "It's like getting kind of late anyway. We can finish another time if you like."
"It's not a problem," Karen said as she finished the last of her cup of coffee. "We get to sleep in tomorrow anyway. Besides, there's not a lot more to tell, right Mal?"
"Right," her husband agreed. "Basically, Karen had been applying her science background over the years to work on an electronic horn of sorts for me. One that I could use as a weapon of my own should I want to be a hero again. She even whipped up the Herald costume I now use. Eventually, I got a yearnin' to run my own nightclub again, so I convinced Karen to let me try."
"When he's being persistent, he doesn't take no for an answer," Karen said.
Arisia giggled at that. "Totally. He's like that when he's training me, Hal and Gopher too."
Mal continued. "Anyway, once we got this place in shape, I contacted Nightwing about getting the old equipment moved from storage out on the East coast so that I could keep it here. Since they had the Titans Tower with all its fancy new equipment, they had no need for the older stuff. Then last Fall, things just kind of fell into place with Charley moving in with us and then Hank coming to town. It seemed right to get the Titans West back together and to unpack the old stuff."
"I've just one more question for tonight," Arisia said as she rose from her chair. "Like whatever happened to that old horn that I read about, the one you like got from the angel Gabriel?"
"Good question," Mal said solemnly. "To be honest, I wish I knew. Right after Duela joined the Titans and we battled Two-Face, I discovered that the horn was missing. I searched high and low. Tore apart the Titans Lair and the old disco looking for it. I even rechecked the stuff we got out of storage. No sign of it though. Either someone stole it or it vanished as mysteriously as it showed up. In either case, it seems to be gone for good."
"But the memory of it still lives on," Karen said, "in the name of the nightclub. Mal had named the original disco, and we thought it was fitting to name the new club the same thing."
"What can I say?" Mal said. "I'm a sucker for tradition."
Karen put her arm around her husband and gave him a big squeeze. "That's one of the qualities I love about you, honey," she said. "You have a heart of gold and are as sentimental as they come."
Arisia smiled as the happy couple made their way up the stairs. She followed behind them, switching off the lights as she went.
Epilogue
A tall thin manservant, feather duster in hand, was tidying up in the large study. The walls were lined with bookshelves with many large, hard cover tomes. The writing on the spines were in various languages, some even long since forgotten by most of the world. Through out the room were various items on display, many in protective cases.
The manservant paused as he dusted the glass of one particular display. He glanced down at the alabaster white item. It was long and tapered at one end; the other end curved up slightly. Both ends had openings correctly proportional to the size of the bone at those points.
The man put down the duster and glanced around quickly. He was still alone.
He turned back to the item on display, and his eyes grew wide with anticipation. It was a glorious object, very beautiful and very smooth. He wondered what it felt like.
Taking the glass knob of the lid of the custom made display case, he carefully began to lift the lid. While holding the lid high with his left hand, the man slowly inched his right hand towards the item. Was it actually calling to him? He wasn't sure. All he knew is he had to hold the item for a moment, to satisfy a curiosity if nothing more. His fingers were mere inches from it.
"What are you doing?" a voice boomed from the doorway.
The man was startled by the loud sound, and he released the glass lid from his left hand. It fell to the marble floor hard, shattering upon impact. At the same moment, the servant's right hand dropped forward, causing him to make contact with the ram's horn.
The moment he made contact with the item, the manservant felt an incredible surge of pain through out his body. He threw his head back, opened his throat wide and began to howl in agonizing pain. The room was filled with the smell of burning flesh. He tried to pull his hand away but could not. In mere moments, the man was reduced to a pile of ash on the floor.
From the doorway, a well dressed man in a hand tailored suit of forest green with long blonde hair shook his head in disgust. He crossed the room quickly and stopped before the broken glass mixed with ashes upon the floor.
"Stupid," the blonde man said. "They never listen about leaving the artifacts be. Good help is so hard to find. Luckily, there's an ending supply of replacements where he came from."
He glanced down upon the ram's horn which still sat in the bottom portion of the display case. "Ah, my little beauty," he said. "You have such great power, especially against certain types of creatures. It is for that very reason that I acquired you all those years ago. Can't have something like you in the wrong hands, can we?"
The man moved over to the desk, picked up the receiver of the antique style phone and began to dial a number on the rotary. After a few moments, some picked up on the other end. "Hello, Barter, old boy," the blonde said. "It's me, Nero. Sorry about calling so late." Pause.
"Oh, that's right, I keep forgetting the time shift for Paris. Listen, do you remember that horn I got from you a long while back?" Another pause.
"Yes, yes, that's the one. Would you happen to have another of those special display cases? I've seem to have had a bit of an accident with the one its currently in." Pause.
"Excellent, excellent. I'll come around and pick it up later in the week. I'm certain I can schedule some business that will get me by your part of the world easy enough. See you soon." And with that, Nathan Nero hung up the phone.