The Crimson Avenger & Wing 

in "The Scourge of Ivy Town Pt. II"

by Dan Hale & Donny Ortega 

*(This story takes place directly after Tales of the Teen Titans: Joto & Risk) 

Ivy Town 
Travis Publishing 
6:45 p.m.

Mrs. Angela Crockett shined the flashlight on the faces of her young charges as she wrapped up her story. All were huddled togethor and grinning at the tale of heroic adventure. She turned the yellow beam back on herself. "Does anyone else know a story they could tell?" 

One little girl raised her hand. She was about to speak, when a slow, dull whistling billowed up from outside the building. The shrill whine of air through old wood clutched at Mrs. Crockett's heart, and her memory flashed back to how terrified she had really been when that first window shattered, all those years ago. Looking around, she realized that they remembered that particular detail from the story as well. They began to shift uncomfortably in the dark. 

"Now, don't worry about all that, kids" she laughed, forcing down her own abrubt start. "This is an old place. It's bound to have a few cold, windy places." 

"False hope given to a child is an empty gift" a hoarse whisper droned in a deep baritone. 

Mrs. Crockett's eyes flew open and she whipped her head around and she tried to peer into the shadows. "What was that? Who's there?" 

"You've returned. The last person to witness my thwarted revenge when I first came to this place, decades ago. You are the only one who hasn't succumbed to disease or old age, death claiming you before I had my chance." 

Angela gathered the frightened children into a circle around her. Her gaze flew about the room, but the teasing voice seemed to come from every corner, every spot where shadow rested. 

"I died to come back and attack this place the first time we met, but my chance at revenge was squashed by that idiot of a costumed nobleman. You have no idea what it cost me to get another chance. But I hate the people of this city. All that ever were, are, or will be. And beautiful hate brought me home tonight." 

"This time, no one is here to stand in my way. To save you. And just as I sought to pluck you, screaming, from your mother's arms as a child, I think I'll start my little night of horrors with..." 

"HER!" The beams bellow the children cracked and rocketed upward amidst their inconsolable shrieks. Mrs. Crocket grabbed two and pulled them to the side. The jumped clear. 

But as they all looked up past the dust and debris that floated in the air, they saw the pale figure of a tall, broad black man with a long gnarled beard and a smooth bald head, between which sat an ugly, hateful face of many lines and wrinkles. He wore a long, dark gray cloak that fell around his sides, down to his feet, and a seperate, matching cloak wrapped around his shoulders, like the robe of a monk. The cowl was cut at the chest and opened downwards, like an upside-down "V" to reveal the long, black body suit he wore. It stretched down the length of his entire body, stopping only at a pair of tattered brown boots. A dense and complicated, brown, celtic symbol was emblazoned in the spot above his heart. His eyes were bright yellow, like a cat's, but sickly... 

And in his arms, he held a small, crying girl. 

"Look upon me in fear!" he bellowed. "I am Julius Kravanaugh! The Hauntsman!" 

Angela surged forward, blindly hoping to rescue her student, but a hissing mist poured forth from the floor like a geyser, forming a circle around the bewildered children. Slowly, a coarse laughter began to hum from inside the swirling mist, and the clouds parted and solidified, until a pack of cloaked, floating skeleton creatures had trapped the group. The skinless apparitions danced and howled, leaning in to snap their dead jaws at the tear-streaked faces of the youngesters. Angela looked on helplessly as the Hauntsman's hovering form turned and began to fade away with the pleading child still in his arms. 

"You, my dear, will be coming with me..." 

Mrs. Crockett reached out her arm and screamed as the two figures finally disappeared. But the moment their leader and his captive were gone, the skeletons sank to the floor. Previously content to meerly taunt the group that cowered within their circle, they now looked at those present with a glare of ungodly contempt. Their ancient bones clicked against the floor as they drew in... 

And then, in a way that made Angela Crockett's heart leap as though she were seven years old again, she heard the distinct sound that was glass shattering. 

"YEEE-HAW!" With a look of wild glee on his face, Risk, clad in form-fitting uniform of green and black, barreled through the window, tiny shards of glass scattering around him. Through the whole he left, Joto, wearing a goldenrod costume, covored by the top half of a torn gray shirt and a gray hood that obscured the top part of his face, followed. 

"Yee-haw?" You're such a hick" Joto quipped as the two took up fighting stances against the small band of undead criminals before them.  

"Isaiah?" Mrs. Crockett whispered in shock, realizing in horror that her own son was now party to the same danger as she. 

Recognizing their new guests as the primary threat, the skeletons turned and swept forward as one, shaking their heads and clacking their jaws in challenge. Joto simply dropped the to the floor, stretching out his bare fingers over the withered floor boards. A faint orange glow began to affect the wood, before shooting out along the surface and hitting home under the feet of the leader of the skeleton crew. The monster howled in shock and tried to move from the agonizing spot, but could not find safe ground. Risk, using the extraordinary agility that was his birthright, flew forward with a side kick to the skeleton's sternum that carried it backwards, splintering into a storm of loose bone that became smoke as soon as it hit the ground. 

"Did you know we were fighting skeleton-ghosts?" Risk called to his partner. "Is that why we changed?" 

Joto dodged a swingy, bony arm from his chosen adversary and grabbed the creature's spine, concentrating his signature heat energy until it ran through the entire network of bones. The skeleton glowed bright orange for an instant, then burst into hot steam. "I knew we were fighting something. That's why we changed." 

"You have good instincts" Risk shot back, even as two skeleton's converged upon him. With astounding grace, the Titan dropped, rolled backwards, and sprang up again. He pushed the two attackers togethor until their bare ribcages interlocked. They tried to pull apart, couldn't, and growled in frustration. The two undead warriors slapped at each other, pushing back and forth as they tried to force their way out of their predicament.  

Risk simply pointed and laughed. "Look! I think I stole this from Scooby Doo." 

Risk grabbed the skulls of the two creatures and, with the strength of ten men in one body, crushed their skulls togethor, just before the conjoined demons exploded in a puff of smoke. 

"If this is Scooby Doo, you're the dog." 

"You say that, even though it's obvious I'm Shaggy." 

At his corner of the room, Joto grabbed the arm of one of the skeletons, just as it was reaching out towards a young boy from the youth group. With a mighy heave, he pulled the ghoul's arm from its socket, charged the appendage with raw heat, then slammed his weapon down across the neck of the aggressor. With a gentle shove, he urged the child back towards the circle of stunned youngsters. Once the boy was safe, however, a final skeleton warrior plunged down from the rafters, its cape whipping behind it, and collapsed on a surprised Joto. His prey pinned to the floor, the the specter yipped with glee and reached back a hand, preparing to end this supposed champion. 

But a strong, simple punch from Risk ended that. His green glove rocketed through the skull of the creature, leaving a neat, clean hole. The skeleton even had time to try and turn and discern what had happened when it, too, burst into a thin vapor. 

"Zoinks" Risk muttered. 

The children clapped and cheered and Risk waved back at them, but the old woman rushed forward and grabbed her son by the front of his uniform. "Isaiah!" she hissed under her breath. "What are you doing here?" 

The taller boy gaped through the darkness cast over his face by his hood. "I'm... I came back to see you, but when you weren't home... I don't know. I can't explain it. I just knew you where to find you." 

"How did you even know we were in danger?" She asked, turning over to Risk. The blonde boy simply pointed out the window. "Well, once Casper here got us to this spooky place. It was pretty obvious. The whole area outside this building's going nuts and there's no way in through the first floor. Hence the dramatic entrance." 

Mrs. Crockett followed his gaze out into the field, and noticed that their was, indeed, the same strange, swirling mist around the entire yard. And it seemed to be growing in size and intensity every minute." 

"You have to get out of here!" she intoned, looking fearfully towards her son.  

"No" Joto replied, stepping forwards into a patch of moonlight. "You have to get out of here. I have to go find that girl." 

"Oh my god!" she remembered. "Endia!" 

The children noticed it first, but in moments it became readily apparent to everyone in the room. The mists began to start crepping in through the walls. Slowly... very slowly, they began to take form. The skeleton army was reforming itself, double-fold this time. 

Joto grabbed his mother and herded her towards the children, then began to push them all through a door and up a flight of dark, creaking stairs. "Everyone has to go! Now! Risk will keep you all safe!" 

"No!" his mother pleaded, hysterical, turning back upon her son as he tried to push her to safety. "I can't let you stay here! I won't have you running off to get killed!" 

Isaiah Thomas couldn't speak. He simply frowned and pushed her up the stairs. 

"Let him go, miss. Joto's got a guardian angel on this one, apparently. He'll be okay." 

But the woman wouldn't hear of it. Tears streaming down her face, she clawed at the air as her son ran back into the other room, and Risk wrapped an arm around her waist, preparing to carry her up the stairs. 

"ISAIAH!" she screamed into the darkness. 

"ISAIAH!" 

Travis Publishing 
1st Floor

Joto rounded a corner into a darkened stairwell at full sprint, a battalion of clattering, cackling skeletons hot on his heels. He leapt, clearing the stairs and crashing through the door at the bottom. Not stopping for a second to breath, he snagged a chunk of the splintered door and charged it into a small, glowing beacon as he continued his pace. The faint glow guided his steps, but just barely. He dashed through the wide halls and huge, empty, ornate rooms, frantically looking about for any clue as to the abducted girl's whereabouts, unsure of how far his pursuers were behind him or if more might be lurking around the corners. 

With a grunt, the costumed Titan kicked through another door and into what looked like a large, corner office. He stopped for a moment to investigate... 

"GHRAAR!" 

Sharp, bony fingers raked against his neck and Joto reeled backwards, realizing that his attacker had drawn blood. With one hand over his neck, he sent out a dizzying roundhouse kick that caught the ghastly figure in the side of its had, but only slowed its approach. The skeleton fell upon him, gnashing its teeth and pulling at his arm with its claws. Desperately fighting off the specter's savage onslaught, he drew the luminescent, makeshift stake in his hand and drove it up into an open spot connecting the skeleton's skull to its spinal cord. With a pop, the whole creature exploded. 

In an instant, however, more mist began to seep into the room and two larger, more menacing skeletal monstrosities emerged from it.  

Joto prepared to launch another attack, but a quiet voice commanded his attention. So quiet was the whisper in his mind that he wondered if he had even heard it. But it spoke again. 

The picture, it said, and Joto's gaze caught a small frame placed on the corner of a desk in the back of the room. It seemed distinctly out of place. Everything else in the office, in the building, for that matter, had been packed up years ago. But not this picture frame.  

Both skeletons leapt upon him, swiping at the Titan, but he threw himself to the opposite side of the room, grasping frantically at the frame. As soon as his fingers jerked it from its place, a small chute opened up in the floor, just as he was about to land.  

Unable to stop his descent, the golden-garbed marvel fell through the floor, and the chute closed up behind him, seemingly swallowing him whole. 

"Whoof!" he exclaimed, landing painfully on cold, wet earth. His relief dissipated instantly when he realized that he was stranded in some basement of the Travis estate and could not see a thing. 

Stand up, the voice in his mind, clearer now, beckoned to him. They can't get to you here. 

"Who is that?" he called into the void. "Who are you?" 

There's a candle to your left, the voice informed him calmly. Feel it?.. Light it. 

Detecting the long stick of wax and its wick, Joto sent a tiny spark through his fingertips and light flowed into the basement room. In the candle's faint glow, all was suddenly revealed. Joto found himself standing in the center of a large, strange chamber. Shelves upon shelves stretched through the expansive cavern. He walked, in awe, through the large, cobwebbed collection of odd tools and trinkets. No two items on the shelves were alike. His wanderings took him past a myriad of masks, weapons, and gadgets from bygone days. He decided he must be in the midst of some time of trohpy room. 

Lighting the candles he would find as he walked, Joto finally came to the end of the cavern. His steps slowed. His breath stopped. Stretching out before him was a wide, open chamber, at the center of which hung a grand, life-size painting of a man in a blood red costume and black domino mask, beside a boy in a matching costume of gold. Scattered randomly about it were framed newspaper clippings of these same figures. In the far corner sat what must have been a car, covered by an old white tarp. 

But none of these was as amazing as what Isaiah Crockett found in the center of the room. 

In a large, macabre oak chair, so huge that it resembled a throne, sat what was, very obviously a ghost. Resting peacefully and seriously in the center of this lair, in the same blood red costume Isaiah saw in the painting, with the cowl pulled down to reveal the pale, effervescent face of a middle-aged, and distinctly non-living, man. 

"Isaiah Thomas. It's nice to finally meet you" the ghost welcomed him. "My name is... was, Lee Travis, the Crimson Avenger. Do you know who I am?" 

Isaiah scratched at the back of his neck as he pulled his own hood back, unable to collect his wits. "Well... honestly, no." 

The ghost of Lee Travis chuckled as he stood. "I'm one of you. I was one of this country's mythic mysterymen, generations ago, before I died. I protected this city, your city, for years." 

"You're the one who led me here?" 

"I did. You might not understand, but... you're the only one who can stop the Hauntsman. You were the only person I could reach out to and warn." 

Isaiah scratched at the back of his head anxiously. Thoughts of his mother's frightened charge tugged at him. "I... I don't understand." 

"The source of all this... the one who calls himself the Hauntsman... decades ago, he was Julius Kravanaugh, a small-time gang leader who was ruined when I disrupted his attempted takeover of the city. When he hit rock bottom, he sought out the dark arts, and sold his soul for a shot at hell-spawned power... enough power to come back to the land of the living on Halloween and use a force of other dead criminals to destroy this city. He tried it once before. I stopped him. Your mother was there." 

"She... she was?" 

Travis looked down at the younger man solemnly. "Isaiah... I didn't realize it then, but there were forces at work bringing me to her aid that night. Those same forces allowed me to return home, just this once, to seek you out. You're special, Isaiah, and you have a destiny and a part to play in history that you can't even imagine. Or you could, anyway, if you're ready..." 

Joto shook his head, desperate to clear his mind of a torrent of thoughts and emotions. "What are you talking about? What destiny!?" 

"We don't have much time. The girl Kravanaugh captured... she's still alive, but he's going to kill her, and set of an invasion from the netherworlds that will transform this town into a living Hell. You'll have to discover your part in the story later. But for now..." 

The ghost of Lee Travis moved down the steps towards the younger hero until the two stood eye to eye. His face was worn and tired and it was obvious he chose his words carefully. 

"Would you ever let an evil deed go unpunished?" 

Isaiah blinked in confusion, but he had no doubt of his answer. 

"No." 

"Would you ever hesitate to protect someone who could not protect themselves?" 

"No" Isaiah replied. 

"Would you ever let the darker motivations of man come before the pursuit of truth and justice?" 

"No." 

The ghost of Lee Travis finally smiled and pulled a small, golden lighter from his belt and handed it to Isaiah. Imprinted on the bottom were the words "Cie La Vie." 

"What is this" the young man asked. 

"It was given to me the night I realized that I had a greater purpose than myself. I want you to have it. You're the Crimson Avenger, now." 

Travis Publishing 
7th Floor

The children had, for the most part remained strong as they made their way through the winding stairwells and passageways of the eerie Travis building, but as they climbed a set of stairs onto the seventh floor, Eric, a heavy young Latino boy at the back of the group began to lose himself to tears. 

"Don't sweat it" Risk consoled him, following the troupe up the stairs. "Once we all get out of here, you guys are going to have the most wicked story to tell at school." 

The boy wiped at his nose and smiled up at the emerald hero. 

Risk made his way up to the front of the group and joined Mrs. Crockett. "It's a good thing you know your way through this old place. If it was just me, we'd be totally lost." 

Isaiah's mother pushed through a heavy door and urged the children into a narrow hallway. "It's a wonder I do. I haven't been in this building in years." 

"I didn't know" she continued, quieter, "that my son was still involved in this business." 

"What, the super-hero set? He's not really. We're not. We had to go kind of semi-retired. I mean, the nine-to-five lifestyle kind of took over after Isaiah had to drop out of... oops." 

Cody Driscoll's devil-may-care grin wilted into one of sheer, awkward fear, which was met in kind by his older travelling company. 

"He dropped out of school?!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. 

Cody pushed through another door and shepherded the children through. "No, he didn't drop out. He got kicked out! I mean-" 

"WHAT!?" 

Risk shook his head in frustration. "Look, is this really the best time to be talking about this?" 

Her face said that she agreed, but she still clicked her teeth togethor. "What have you all done to my boy" she muttered. 

"Whoa... whoa. I didn't do anything. And neither did he, okay? There were circumstance way out of his control." 

The duo pushed open a door leading to a stairwell that would take them all to the eighth floor. They stopped speaking long enough to usher the children on and wait until they were a suitable distance ahead. 

"I bet there were. But I also bet those "circumstances" wouldn't have even been in place if he hadn't made the choice to go off galavanting around with a bunch of amped up vigilantes. And now he's here, risking his life instead of at school, where he's safe." 

Risk simply made a face and shook his head again as he checked the darkened corners for danger. "Sheesh... I'm beginning to understand why he didn't want to tell you." 

With that, Angela Crockett grabbed the taller young man by the chest of his uniform and leveled a very serious finger at him. "You don't understand a damn thing young man" she informed him venomously. Looking away, she softened. "I was dating a man when I was pregnant with Isaiah. He was wild, irresponsible, and lived for thrills and adventure, which is all well and good, until you start trampling those around and hurting people who get in the way of what you think your life should be. He left, and I met Isaiah's father, who was the opposite. He was intelligent, strong, and believed one-hundred percent in putting family before everything else. Every day since Isaiah was born, I've worried that he'd take after the man who could have been his father, instead of the man who is. I don't care how noble his intentions are... I know what road he's on." 

Stunned, Risk tried to resume their trek. "Yeah, but-" he started, but then a blood-curdling shriek pierced the air. Risk shot up the stairs to the front of the group to try and find the source. 

He charged up the stairs and around the corner, and found one of the children, a small girl who had moved ahead of the rest of the group, being dragged away by two of the cloaked skeletons.  

"Let her go!" he yelled, running forward and grabbing one of the skelton's by its shoulders. With a jerk, he sent the beast reeling to the far corner of the room, but the undead monstrosity's partner sent a backhand up under his chin that sent Risk careening straight into the cieling with impossible force. He smashed against the wood and plummeted heavily to the floor, smashing against that as well.  

Groaning, the young man tried to lift himself up, but as midnight approached, and as the mists found their target, the otherwordly powers haunting the Travis house became stronger and swifter. As thick gray smog seeped into the room, it solidified faster than it had before. Ten of the Hauntsman's ghouls dropped to the ground and advanced on the fallen Risk. He struggled to stand, but a bony foot between his shoulder blades forced him back onto the floor. Two skeletons reached down and drew their claws across his back and he grunted to fight the pain. 

The Titan used placed his fists against the ground on either side of his body and, using his alien-born strength, pushed upwards and twisted, knocking the skeleton above him off balance and dropping him to the floor. Not yet ready to stand, the maddened Risk just lurched over, still flat on his stomach and drove a powerful elbow into the creature's ribcage, shattering the whole thing into hundreds of pieces.  

He popped his body up and reached out, grabbing the two skeletons that had clawed him just before and twisted his body again, sending one flying through the air into the wall and the other out the window where it fell to the ground with a soul-wrenching moan.  

No quarter was given, however, and as soon as his hands were free of his two opponents, bone-fingers wrapped around his neck and hefted him off the ground. Risk flailed, kicking his arms and legs, struggling in vain the free himself as he felt the blood rush to his face. His lips flapped as he fought to breathe, but the fingers around his neck just squeezed tighter and tighter. 

Summoning all his strength, Cody Driscoll, curled upwards, driving his knee as hard as he could into the creature's chin. With a sickening click, the skeleton's skull flew off and flew to the ground, whipping about as it fell. The rest of the body continued to choke him, but he grabbed at the arm and with the last bit of power in his body, snapped the forearms into pieces. 

The creature faded into mist as Cody's feet found the floor. 

"Whoof!" he groaned painfully, clutching his neck as oxygen filled his lungs once more. Another skeleton rushed forward, punching him in the gut and another followed suit, clenching it's fist togethor into one and driving them down against the back of the young man's head. Pain racked his body, and his vision blurred. He struck out wildly, chopping the creature to his left straight through its spinal chord, just above what would have been it's waist. With a screeching cry, the top half of the thing's body simple fell to the floor. With his other hand, he found the creature to his right and drove a devestating fist straight through it's pelvic bone. Its center of balance gone, the thing simply fell into three pieces and crashed against the ground. 

The other five creatures began to march as one on their intended victim, but Risk, sweat pasted against his brow, his eyes bloodshot and rage-filled, reached behind him and wrapped his fingers around the edges of an old, expensive desk.  

"Go. back. to HELL!" He cried flipping the desk up over his head and sending it streaming through the air, where it caught all five remaining drones and skattered the helpless creatures like bowling pins. 

The battle won, for now, Risk sunk weakly to the ground. The children ran forward to thank their savior and help him to his feet. 

"Let's..." he wheezed, hands still wrapped around his bruised windpipe. "Keep... going..." 

Ivy Town Graveyard

Throwing open the gates of the of the graveyard he had not visited since his last days as a living man, the tortured spirit of Julius Kravanaugh, set his yellow gaze to the back of the yard and dragged his captive, Endia Mira, kicking and screaming, by the foot along the dirt. 

"Let me go!" she shrieked. 

"Silence, whelp! You should be thanking me! The spilling of your blood will spark a new dark and unholy age for this wretched city! Once I sacrifice your pure, clean soul, my presence here will be cemented! No force on Earth will be able to escape my wrath!" 

Finding the gravestone he sought, the decripit slab of rock that indicated the resting placing of Jon Simon Black, the Hauntsman threw the girl roughly to the ground against it. Reaching out his hand and curling his withered fingers into a ghastly sign, a bolt of bright blue energy flew outwards and struck the girl, binding her to the headstone. 

Grinning wide and revealing a set of gnarled, black teeth, the Hauntsman raised up his arms and cryed out to the beating winds above. Sparks of pure, blue energy traced his fingertips. "Demon spirits of the night! Your servant begs of you, come forth! Take this girl-" 

The necromancer's plea was cut short by a small rock, glowing bright orange, that struck him in the small of his back, bursting into flames upon contact. With a growl of pure rage, the Hauntsman grabbed at his cloak and snapped it once, putting out the flames spreading around the new hole. He whipped around and snarled into the night. 

"Who dares...!?" 

"You'd think somebody who'd been taking a dirtnap for over thirty years would be a little less grumpy" Isaiah Thomas, dressed now in the red regalia of the Crimson Avenger, stepped out from a coalescing vortex of red and yellow energy. "I was told you'd come here by the guy who beat you the first time. Playtime's over. Give me the girl." 

Seeing again the crimson costume that had circumvented his plans so many years ago, every vein on the Hauntsman's face popped out and his face visibly seethed with fury. "NEVER!" 

His arm flew out and blue energy wrapped around his shoulder and traveled up his arm. In the space between his fingertips a bright blue ball began to take shape. With a snap of his fingers, the magical force turned into a cloud of bats that flew out towards the crimson crusader.  

Their leathery wings beat against his head, but Isaiah still had time to roll out of their path. As the pack of rodents turned in the air and prepared another dive, he reached into his golden belt and pulled out a small yellow revolver. He fired off a shot, and a small pellet flew into the cloud of bats and exploded into a puff or thick, putrid green smoke. Isaiah turned to face his opponent as the attacking animals, whined, gasped, and flew away. 

"You fool!" the Hauntsman goaded walking down the small hill and into the fray. "That was but a sample of my power!" 

He curled his fingers into a fist and punched outward, sending a streak of azure energy into the graveyard, right at the spot where the Crimson Avenger stood. With speed and luck, Isaiah leapt to the side, narrowly escaping the beam that connected with a headstone behind him and exploded in a dazzling display of otherworldly energy.  

The Hauntsman sent out another beam, and another, howling in rage. The Crimson Avenger mearly vaulted over a headstone to escape the first one, and continued his forward motion with a barrel roll as he connected with the ground, to evade the second. 

"STAND STILL AND DIE!" 

The Hauntsman put his hand togethor and shot out one more beam of sizzling blue energy that caught a startled Isaiah, square in the chest. Lifted from his feet, he flew backwards and breakneck speed, careening through an old tree that erupted upon contact with the young man. Amidst a mess of wooden splinters, Isaiah lay groaning. 

The Hauntsman smiled. His cloak swirling about him, the ghost raised both his arms once more. "You've met my "henchmen" and survived, Avenger. But now I think its time you understood the real evil forces that call me master!" 

The ground beneath the moaning hero began to shake and with considerable difficulty he stood and ran to a spot safely away from the rapidly cracking ground beneath him. Chunks of dirt and debris spewed into the air as a giant, cracked skeleton pulled itself out from beneath the graveyward.  

With a hideous growl that shook the ground around it, the creature spotted the Crimson Avenger and reached out a hand to grab him. With deft speed, the stupefied Isaiah leapt onto the beast's little finger and catapulted himself over the second, escapting through a gap in the digits just before it closed, and the grasping hand became a tight fist. Bellowing in frustration, the creature slammed that fist down on the ground, shattering a row of tombstones and flowers under the blow.  

Pulling itself from the crevice, the behemoth stood revealed. From head to toe a creature of pure bone, made hard as rock, well over nine stories tall. 

"YES!" The Hauntsman laugh maniacally. "Attack, you demon! Kill the fool! Crush him between your teeth!" 

Then, he turned back to Endia. "Now, my dear... where were we?" 

Behind them, now free to move the giant, skeletal creation craned its body over and swiped at the sprinting Crimson Avenger. The backhand caught the hero full on and tossed him back into the fence, where he landed harshley on a brick post, the stone cracking beneath his weight. His back cried out in agony as he sunk downwards. 

The skeleton monster reached down and tore a large tree from its place in the ground and swung it down towards the fallen champion. Seeing the tree's deadly approach, adrenaline pumped into his body and all conscious thought blacked out in his mind. Driven by pure survival instinct, the Crimson Avenger jumped up and leapt into the air to meet the swinging oak. Unable to see an inch in front of his face, he simply kept leaping and grabbing inside the leaves, hoping to catch a branch and propel himself upwards into safety. The tree, still careening through the air, wind still whipping against the hero's body, threatening to pull him back to Earth, Isaiah set himself and made for the trunk of the tree. Reaching down and holding on for dear life, he grabbed the trunk of the mighty oak and focused his heat powers, sending an orange glow racing through the body of wood.  

Before the skeleton could even complete his arc, the Crimson Avenger bolted from the tree and left the skeleton holding a bright orange grenade. The tree exploded in its hand, dislodging the entire fist from the body of the monster. 

The second he reached the ground, chunks of shattered wood and bone still flying through the air above him, he looked to the Hauntsman and the girl. Back at the opposite end of the graveyard, the maniac ghost was further into his incantation, bolts of blue energy lancing out from his body and into the sky. The girl, unable to move, still struggled and squirmed against her binding. 

Deep inside his soul, the Crimson Avenger realized he had to finish his battle now. Grabbing a discarded chunk of headstone, he charged it full of heat energy and tossed it up at the still reeling monster to get its attention. The stone ball landed right in the vacant eye socket and exploded, not enough to truly damage it, but enough to cause just the right amount of anger. The skeleton remembered the cause of its pain and looked down at the tiny, running, red man. 

Isaiah, dodging through the destroyed field at full tilt, looked over to the spot where the Hauntsman was completing his demonic ritual and looked up at the giant creature, calculating the distance. The genius level intellect that got Isaiah Thomas into college while he was only sixteen years old, his one true super power, worked at rapid speed. Pulling the Crimson Avenger's bola from his golden belt, he chucked one end around a tree and pulled it tight. 

"Hey stupid!" he cried. "Over here!" 

The beast roared and took two giant steps over towards the frantically running man. With olympic grace, the Crimson Avenger, still holding the long thin chord of the bola threw himself in between the feet of the behemoth and rolled away safely. With a mighty tug, he pulled the chord straight and caught the creature in the ankle. 

The skeleton swerved unsteadily, hovering and flailing in the stormy winds, then buckled and toppled over, directly towards the headstone of Jon Simon Black. 

Summoning one last burst of speed, the Crimson Avenger bolted over to the spot where the Hauntsman was completing the final words of his spell. He snapped up a flying kick into the ghost's face, disrupting both his soul stealing ritual and the spell which bound Endia to the gravestone. Grabbing the small girl's arm, the Crimson Avenger ran to safety, just as the Hauntsman looked up and realized his predicament. 

Julius Kravanaugh stared helplessly up at the sky as the giant skeleton, his creation, barreled down upon him like a chopped tree. The huge skull seemed to rush upon him, and Kravanaugh had only the time to raise his arms up over his head and scream as the beast crushed him. 

Ivy Town Graveyard 
The following morning

The orange sun was just beginning to rise over the cool October morning. The city of Ivy Town had recieved reports of the destruction of the old graveyward, but construction crews wouldn't be there to rebuild for another few hours. 

A lone figure stood looking at one of the graves, in a small collection of stones that were remarkably left untouched by that chaos of that Halloween night. He pulled his sweater tighter around his body to keep out the chill and stared at a small, golden lighter resting in his palm. 

"Cie La Vie" he whispered. 

Behind him came the faint sound of an old, rusty engine being turned off and after a few moments, Cody walked up to join his friend at the grave. 

"How's your mom?" 

Isaiah shrugged his shoulders and placed the lighter back in his pocket. "Pretty shaken up. She'd talk to me over the phone but... she doesn't want to see me. Not now. I think its time to pack up." 

Cody sighed and clapped a hand over his friend's shoulder. "That's rough, man." 

"Hey... who's grave are we looking at here? Somebody die that I don't know about?" 

Isaiah, still solemn, smiled and parted a bouquet of flowers with the toe of his shoe. The small, modest headstone read "Lee Travis. Dedicated to the pursuit of truth." 

"Ah... yeah, so you're the big, bad Crimson Avenger now, huh?" 

Isaiah nodded. 

"Well" Cody spoke slowly, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a long piece of yellow fabric and showed it to the shorter man. "I guess that makes me Wing. I check out that little secret cave you told me about. There's some pretty crazy stuff in their. And I think, assuming you aren't crazy, of course, that the first guy who wore those colors would want you to have it." 

Isaiah gaped in disbelief down at the uniform. "Are you serious?" 

"Hey" the former Titan smiled wide. "Where you go, I go. Same deal as before right?" 

He stretched out a hand and Isaiah looked at it a moment before clasping it firmly in his own. "Same deal." 

The duo laughed and turned from the gravestone, walking back towards the car and whatever future awaited them. 

As they walked down the hill and out of view, Isaiah's quite voice spoke up. "You know that makes you my sidekick, right?" 

"Partner... that makes me your partner." 

"Sure... but, I mean, I can call you my sidekick in public, right?" he asked. 

"You really know how to ruin a moment, you know that?" Cody shot back. 

"Whatever you say... chum. Little buddy. Boy Wonder. Skipper." 

"Shut up."