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Dr. Drakken's fanfic memory bank: Better the devil you date..., Chapter 3: Pneuma Confusion
Dr. Drakken's fanfic memory bank: Better the devil you date..., Chapter 3: Pneuma Confusion
#1
A bay soddened Koriand’r, hair a wet comet tail,  reentered the den just as Robin, an unbelieving look on his masked face, rushed into the once again wrecked room. 

“I leave for half a day and…” Then he caught sight of his three insensate team mates.  

“Star, what…?”

She alit in his arms : “Friend Cyborg’s disco ball has trapped Raven…and Cyborg and Beast Boy too?” 

“Disco….” Flummoxed Robin was interrupted as the spirit raven made a second, much more pacific, appearance gently emerging from the sphere to once again merge with its fountainhead, Raven. That displaced the green gleam that briefly bathed Beast Boy before sinking into his skin.

“Ball?” Robin lamely finished.

Star, who had more first hand knowledge of spirit transpositions than her beau, reacted to the esoteric energies with alien princess aplomb: “Ah, it is a Pneuma confusion like I shared with Raven when Puppet Master attacked; they are coming out of it.” 

 Robin wasn’t exactly certain what a ‘pnu-ma’ was but the energy pattern did look like what occurred when the sentient puppet villain stole the Titan’s vigour, spirit, energy or ‘pnu-ma’. He decided to sidestep the esoteric issue.

“Stay with them Star; I’m going to check Cyborg.” He reached his companion at exactly the moment when the resounding ‘Boo-Yah’ indicated the initiation of a successful Cyborg reboot cycle. 

Garfield woke with the comfortable stupor of a cat curled in a sunbeam. Face down, he wriggled lazily mumbling something in his dazed return from sleepy-by land. Face up, Raven’s return to consciousness was the other extreme: immediate, crystalline and vexed at Beast Boy’s burrowing. 

His tousled head, fidgeting between her breasts, had drooled a pool into the dent of her sternum. She scowled; raised a fist to pound the offending noggin.

Almost all the way back to consciousness, Garfield murmured five words that transmogrified Raven’s intent: “Corvine, Azarath awaits the Orb!” The descending fist blossomed into a palm that, joined by its partner, lifted Gar’s sleep-gluey eyes level with her own.

“Oh, hi…” He said, thickly. Then, becoming very aware of his intimate arrangement with his team mate, he blurted: “Raven! Wha…?”

There was an intensity within Raven’s dark eyes that steadied Garfield and made him remember his dream in an epiphanic rush. He bent his head forward; planted a peck on a very startled Raven’s chin—he had been aiming for her cheek, but he missed. “That’s from your mom!” 

“She’s alive?” Raven sounded incredulous. 

“Yes.” Garfield stated, factually, even though his proof was dream-stuff.

“She’s alive?” Raven sounded hopeful.

“Yes!”

“She’s alive?” Raven sounded tearful.

Garfield gathered up his girlfriend in his arms and marvelled at it all as she wept. 

Koriand’r, who had been standing solidly upon the floor, floated gently aloft with her happy response to the scene unfolding before her golden eyes.  
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