Beast Boy: Why are you doing this?
Thunder: Because it is not sporting to attack an unready opponent.
Beast Boy: No. Why are you wrecking everything?
Thunder: Uh...because it is amusing.
Beast Boy: Do they look amused?
Pan to show the scared motorists huddling behind their damaged and overturned cars. The answer to that question is obvious.
Thunder: I-
Beast Boy: -This isn't funny! It's wrong!
An attack of conscience makes Thunder relax his power. Before Beast Boy can say anything more, though, a lightning bolt blasts him away and its shooter jumps down next to his brother.
Lightning: Ah, the thrill of victory. Come, Thunder. We shall seek more amusement.
They take to the air. Pan to a pile of rubble, from which the blasted Titan sits up-dazed, smoking, disheveled, drooling a bit. He shakes his head to clear it and finds Starfire floating into view behind him. She is clutching her forearm.
Beast Boy: Well, that was a shock.
She turns up her nose and floats on.
Starfire: Hmph!
Beast Boy: So... I'm guessing you're still mad?
Cut to the other four, y/n helps Raven to her feet.
y/n: You alright?
Raven: Just bruised.
y/n chuckles to himself.
Raven: What's so funny.
y/n: Oh it's nothing. It's just... I'm helping you for once.
Raven seems to find this funny enough, seeing as she bursts into fits of laughter. She falls into y/n- knocking him over. They are both laughing now.
Robin: Okay, team. We have to find those guys before they do any more damage. Cyborg, search the west side. Raven... RAVEN!
She and y/n stop laughing and stand to attention.
Robin: You and y/n take the east. I'll take downtown. Beast Boy, you and Star scan from the skies.
Beast Boy looks uneasily up at the partner who has just been assigned to him. She has turned her back and crossed her arms.
Beast Boy: Um... maybe Cyborg should come with me instead.
Robin: Cyborg can't fly.
Beast Boy: Oh. Yeah.
y/n: Yes he can! Remember Massachusetts?
Cyborg: That was a prototype, and it drained too much power for it to be considered efficient.
y/n: Ohhh...
Cyborg: Have a nice flight, my little clorbag.
Dissolve to the open courtyard in front of the museum. On either side of a central open area is a row of vertical concrete slabs; a large metal globe is mounted at the end nearest the building. A couple of fellows make their way across the screen on foot and bicycle before there is a mighty blast of lightning. The troublemaking brothers appear, scaring the men away.
Lightning: Magnificent! We can make much mischief here!
He strikes the globe, which rolls away from its post toward one row of slabs. It bangs into the end one, which topples over into the next, and so on like a row of falling dominoes. Long shot of Thunder, whose expression changes to one of trepidation as the last slab comes down.
