Raven picked herself up from the rubble, balanced precariously on unstable footing. Her knees ached, her muscles burned. That last impact from the side nearly killed the teen hero, her head still ringing with double-vision. Raven's hair hung dirty in her eyes.
But those eyes burned with a focused fury.
“Azarath...”
She stepped forward.
“Metreon...”
Conviction thundered across the girl's face, her brow drawn down.
Without another word her body collapsed forward, flat onto her face. Consciousness fled her mind in an instant, and the defeated Titan lay prone there, arms at her sides, fingers and thighs twitching aimlessly in the absence of thought.
Her spirit watched herself from outside her body.
How many times had she died?
She looked on to the puddle of drool pooling around her mouth, lips growing cool even as her mouth lay warm and damp. Another puddle formed around her crotch, and even through the astral plane she could smell the sweet pleasure seeping through the damp material of her panties and glistening on her leotard.
Dying was an extreme, but once you experience anything enough it becomes a norm. Dying had its pleasures, once you got used to it.