Raven didn't feel well at all. Her head ached from the constant use of her powers during the fight or rather, the humiliation she had received from the demon she called her father. Her emotions were spiraling out of control between fear, sadness, and rage.
Her body wouldn't stop hurting: broken bones, torn muscles, possible internal bleeding, and that damned burning sensation that slowly crept through her entire being.
The raw emotions of her teammates lingered nearby, reminding her of their shared situation. Without wasting another second, she tried to steady her thoughts; her mind still burned like molten metal, but she had to wake up—and that only caused more pain.
I opened my eyes slowly, trying to make sense of where I was. She lay on a straight, uniform bed, much like her still-unconscious and bandaged teammates. Their clothes, as well as her own, had been replaced with garments resembling Roman ceremonial robes—but with a somewhat... modernist twist? The room was metallic white, its edges perfectly straight, and faint red lines traced along the walls as soft lighting. One wall was made entirely of opaque glass, and a metal door engraved with strange symbols she had never seen before suggested a possible exit.
She stayed there for a moment before she began waking her teammates. The first to open his eyes was Robin, who groaned in pain at her touch.
"Agh," he grunted before fully waking and looking directly at her, then at the rest of the team. "So, we're still alive?" he asked sarcastically, wasting no time.
"Luckily, we just came out badly hurt," I pointed out, noticing his arm completely bandaged like the rest, who were not in better condition either. I gestured again as my empathic powers sensed a pair of psychic presences slowly but steadily approaching. The emotions I perceived were deeply strange: an unnatural calm, devoid of the feelings conscious beings usually possess. No malice. No empathy. Empty. Hollow. Like a tranquil sea.
She frowned and looked at Robin, who needed no more than that look to understand her unspoken warning as she turned her gaze toward the metal door, waiting for whatever—or whoever—might arrive.
Robin nodded seriously and began waking the rest of the Titans. The silence of anticipation was soon replaced by the groans of pain from the others, and even a brief celebration from Beast Boy and Cyborg at the fact they were still alive. Starfire celebrated too, only to collapse back onto the bed from the pain. Yet the serious looks on Robin's and Raven's faces reminded everyone that things were far from over.
Waiting before that door, Robin's gaze swept across the room, analyzing it with the detective's instinct deeply ingrained in him by Batman. It was fruitless—there was nothing there besides the beds.
Raven shook her head and tried to use her powers but had to stop immediately; even the attempt made her head feel like it would explode. Koriand'r and Beast Boy seemed able to use theirs, but both were too injured to try. Cyborg, though mostly intact, seemed drained of energy leaving him just as defenseless.
She calmed herself with the breathing exercises she had learned in Azarath to control her emotions. Then, the door slid open like something out of a futuristic facility. The group tensed instantly.
A uniform group of people entered the room. They were tall over two meters, she estimated—with athletic builds, dark hair touched with dull red, and black eyes. Their faces were eerily similar, impassive and unshaken. They all seemed to be around the same age as the Titans, which only made the sight more unsettling.
Those carrying weapons wore dark militarized uniforms adorned with red and gold accents, forming the same gear-shaped insignia she had seen before. There were only four of them—two men and two women.
The unarmed ones wore white robes similar to the Titans', though far more ornate, bearing the same symbol as the door and intricate patterns that somehow did not overcrowd the design. A man and a woman. Yet despite being unarmed, these two set off her instincts the most they radiated danger.
The two in white exchanged glances for barely a fraction of a second, as if holding an entire conversation and reaching a consensus almost instantly.
Robin and Raven exchanged looks as well, both puzzled by the strange behavior, until Raven subtly noticed the faint use of psychic powers among all of them.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the man in white gestured with his hand. The armed ones stepped back, pushing forward a large floating cart of food, which was received by the woman in white.
The entire interaction happened in less than a second. Before she could even speak, the man—clearly the leader—addressed them.
His voice was strange in many ways: clear and melodic, yet synthetic and devoid of most human emotion. Still, it seemed to echo from every direction, leaving behind a faint, ethereal resonance. That voice reminded her of Azar like that of a magical being of immense power.
"I know you have many questions," he said clearly, his tone calm and measured. "But to answer the most important one in advance—this is not Earth."
As he spoke, the woman beside him seemed to activate some sort of technology on the levitating cart, unfolding it to reveal a spread of mixed aromas. Raven could hear Beast Boy and Cyborg getting excited at the sight of food, ignoring entirely what the being before them was saying.
The man's gaze rested on each of them briefly before continuing. His eyes carried the weariness of someone ancient, but neither his tone nor his psychic presence betrayed any emotion.
"That doesn't tell us much," Robin said with a low hiss, adjusting himself in his seat, still wary of the clearly alien or extradimensional beings before them.
The woman behind the man let out a faint laugh at his words, though even then, the emotions Raven felt from her were almost nonexistent, like a hollow echo. The man raised an eyebrow in response, and for the first time during the entire interaction, Raven felt a hint of emotion within him—yet instead of faint, it was vast. Like an infinite ocean in perfect stillness. The sheer scope of his consciousness made her head throb harder.
"Clearly, that was just the introduction before I truly began explaining," he said, his tone still supernatural but now tinged with faint amusement. "You know—the whole act of being impassive, impossible, mysterious eldricht creature, and blah blah." He moved his hand like a talking puppet as he spoke, his manner almost mocking. "But really, you don't represent a threat serious enough for [The Factory] to be that tense."
He finished speaking and stepped aside, giving room for the woman to unfold what appeared to be a floating banquet before them. The man took one of the many appetizers from the display before continuing, completely unfazed by their silent stares.
"This place is [The Factory], and I am [The Fabricator]."
That last word resonated with a supernatural weight, much like the mantra Raven used in her own magic. These words clearly meant more to them than mere language; they seemed to float in the air with something alien—yet eerily familiar.
His playful expression faded into something more serious as he finished speaking.
"Now, we may proceed with the questions."
He ended curtly, as the woman in white stood by his side—impassive, yet with an equally sharp and cutting gaze, as if waiting for the slightest flaw in their being.