Teen Titans

All These Lives

Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone.

If anybody would to co-author this story with me, I'd greatly appreciate the help, as I can only write so much before my ideas start wearing thin. Just PM me if you'd like to help. I will only have a max of two co-authors.

Okay, that said, onto the story. Before we get going, I'll give you a quick summary of what is going to be happening in this story.

Setting is Alternate Universe Gotham City. (The only reason it is listed under Teen Titans is because the majority of the characters are from that show.) Kori isn't an Anders. She's a Wilson, therefore related to Slade. He's not a local crime lord, but he is a drinker, abusive and he kidnaps women and teenagers between the ages of 16 and 19 for a perverted brand of "fun."

Thanks to my beta, ComixFan1224 or something like that. Lol.

Now, I must give a disclaimer so people don't decide to report me.

I, Dash-Rendar, do not own the Teen Titans franchise or characters borrowed from Batman. Both of those belong to Warner Bros. and DC Comics.

Well, with all this lovely stuff out of the way, I shall start the story. Please drop me a review at the end of the chapter to let me know if I should even bother continuing this story. I hope you all enjoy this.

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The clock on the microwave blinked 9:00 AM on a Saturday afternoon. The sun shone through the window of the Gordon home as Commissioner Jim Gordon stood over his stove, cooking an omelet. Just as the timer buzzed to signal the eggs were cooked, the toast he had in the toaster popped up and the coffee pot finished brewing. "BARBARA! BREAKFAST!" he called loudly, setting the table and dishing out the food.

A few minutes passed, so he sat down and started eating without her. 'She must still be asleep,' he said to himself as he ate. Grabbing the pepper, he sprinkled some onto his food and took another bite, followed by a swig of his black coffee.

At 9:30, Babs still wasn't downstairs, so Jim yelled again. "COME ON BABS! TIME TO GET UP!" He went up the stairs as he yelled and stopped outside her door. Turning the knob, he pushed the door open and nearly fell over at the scene before him.

The bed was a mess of sheets, pillow fluff and blood. The computer desk was overturned, as was the bookshelf. A lamp and bedside table were destroyed and the floor was covered with glass from the broken window overlooking the bay. "Barbara…" Jim whispered before he crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

He rose after a few minutes and, jaw set, went downstairs, grabbed his badge, gun and jacket and took off to the station. When he came in, Harvey Dent, his lead detective, said, "Boss, it's Saturday. You ain't supposed to be here. Your day off." He took a bite out of a donut and swallowed loudly.

"The Tornado Kidnapper struck again." Jim said, sitting down at his desk after hanging his coat up on the rack behind him. He pulled up a file on his computer and stared at the face within. "Slade Wilson, a.k.a The Tornado Kidnapper."

Harvey came in, coat and gun on. "Who'd he take this time boss? I want to get this scumbag myself. He's taken too many people for my liking and on my watch too."

Jim looked at him. "Barbara."

Harvey looked puzzled. "Your daughter? What does she have to do with this?" Then it hit him. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Oh boss… I'm… so sorry." He lowered his gaze and stared at his feet.

"That just means we have to work that much harder, Harvey. I refuse to let him take one more person off the streets, especially since that last person is my daughter!" He slammed his fist onto his desk; making most of the loose things, like pencils and papers, jump a few inches from the desktop. "We're heading back to my place to check it over for clues of some sort."

Harvey nodded. "I'll grab the forensics kit from the lock up. I'll meet ya there." Before Harvey could even turn a half step, Gordon spoke again.

"Get Grayson down there as soon as you can. We're going to need all the help we can get." Then, with a swish of trench coat, he was gone. A few seconds later, the roar of the engine to his 1985 Corvette was heard.

Dent picked up the phone and hit MEMORY 3. It rang twice before someone picked up. "Grayson here."

"Dick, it's Harvey," the heavyset man said. "We need you down at the Commissioner's place on the double. We got some searching to do. Tornado struck again. He got Babs."

Dick Grayson, who rarely ever lost his composure, exploded. "He got BABS?" After a second of breathing, he sighed. "I'm on my way. Meet you there in 5." The phone clicked, signaling that the ace sleuth had hung up.

Harvey sighed. "Doesn't anybody say goodbye anymore?" He went out to his squad car, put the forensic kit on the seat beside him and turned on the sirens, letting people know to get out of his way, or suffer the consequences.

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Meanwhile, across town near the docks, Slade Wilson sat down in his living room, drinking a cold martini. His face, deformed from a house fire at an early age, was hidden behind a large metal mask. Only his right eye was visible. "KORI!" he yelled, taking a swig from his tall glass. "WHERE'S MY BREAKFAST?"

The tall girl with the fiery red hair and green eyes glinting angrily came out from the kitchen, eggs and toast on a plate for him. She slammed it down in front of him. "There's your breakfast, you heartless freak." She turned and went back into the kitchen, making sure the second egg wasn't burned yet. After it was finished, she flipped it onto another plate, along with some more toast and a glass of milk onto a tray and went downstairs to the basement.

Heading into the first room she came to, she placed the tray in front of a shivering Barbara Gordon. "Here, you got to eat something. It's the only way you'll be able to fight him off." She turned to go, but a quiet voice reached her ears.

"How can you call that… that… thing your father?" Barbara Gordon, still somewhat short for 17, asked, her blue eyes shining with pain and fear. It was almost as if you could touch it; it was that obvious.

Kori turned to stare at the girl again. Her eyes softened. "I don't. He's not even a person, he's a disease. To call him a person would be like calling you an animal. I promise you, with every bone in my body, I will find a way to get you away from him, if it's the last thing I do." She turned and left the room, closing the door with a click. Tears filled her eyes. "I have to do something…"

"You'll do nothing if you value your life, you ungrateful little brat," Slade said from the top of the stairs. His one eye was glinting maniacally. "You're lucky you're my daughter or you'd be down there, like her. Cold, alone, and scared to death of what Tornado is going to do to her." He came down the stairs one at a time until he was directly in front of her. His voice became a whisper. "You just remember that."

She glared at him defiantly before heading up the stairs to her room. As soon as she was out of earshot, she muttered, "Heartless, self centered swine." Then, she remembered that she needed to go get some groceries, so she yelled, "GOING TO GET SOME FOOD! BACK IN A BIT!", took some money out of his wallet, grabbed the car keys and took off.

The old Plymouth roared to life and shot from the driveway onto the roughly paved road. Quickly heading into town, she said mentally, as she was sure the car was bugged, 'I gotta get that girl some help. But who will talk to me? I'm the daughter of a psychopath!'

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Three months later, they were back at the Gordon house. Posters had been put up, radio ads distributed and Barbara's picture was even put on the news twice a day. All that had lead to a few useless leads, so they were effectively stuck at square one.

Dick said to Harvey, "I wish someone would give a real lead on this. We've been over the house a dozen times already and there's nothing here, just like the other cases!" He punched the wall, causing the photos to rattle loudly. "Not a single fingerprint, piece of clothing, hair follicle, or any blood but the victim's own."

Harvey sighed. "You're right Dick. I wish there was a lead too. I hate seeing the commish like this. I never have seen a man so sad before." Shaking his head, he finished packing up the forensics kit. "I'm going to head back to the station. Call me if you need me." He latched the case and went outside as Dick went back upstairs, staring around before beginning his search again.

He went to the window first and gazed at each piece of glass carefully. The hole was too large to have been punched through, meaning the Tornado had probably used a large, blunt object to smash through it. But what?

What could the kidnapper have used that would easily smash through the glass, but leave no clue?

"There has to be something I can use here," he said to himself, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Suddenly, he was drawn to the window again. Pulling out a magnifying glass, he squinted at the outside edge of the frame. Grabbing an evidence bag and some tweezers, he picked up a small piece of metal about the size of a pencil shaving.

"Already seen this before," he said to himself as he bagged it and dated it anyway. Sticking his head out the window, he sighed. The only thing he was the daily traffic, a few pedestrians and the bay. Just before pulling back in, he said, "Wait a minute, I think I got an idea!"

He pulled himself out the window, dropped onto the slanted roof of the garage and flipped down to the street. Years in the circus pay off, eventually.

Jumping into his car, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Harvey. He shot onto the street just as Harvey picked up. "Dent here. What can I do for ya?"

"Harvey, get to your computer. I think I may have found a connection in all the kidnappings." Dick swerved around another car, causing the driver to honk madly at him.

Dent raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Okay, what do you think you have?" He sat down at his desk, flipping his mouse to wake the computer up.

After nearly avoiding another car, Dick said, "Pull up the files of all the people who went missing because of him. Look at their living arrangements. What do you see?"

Harvey quickly pulled up five files – Barbara Gordon, Michelle Liam, Jamie Kingston, Kelly DiGiovani and Heather Lutz. Scanning each quickly, his eyes brightened visibly. "They all live or were kidnapped down by the water!"

Dick said, "Bingo. I'm heading down to the docks now. Send a couple of backup men and come yourself. I'll wait for you outside the dock district." He flipped the phone shut and went back to weaving in and out of traffic. He could just use the siren and portable lights, but it was more fun this way.

His radio was blaring at him. "Attention all units available. Head down to the dock district. We have a lead on Tornado rapist. Repeat, we have a lead on the Tornado rapist."

A few calls came in. "Copy that, Detective. Patrol Unit 325 heading there now. We're close, so we'll be there in 5. Over and out."

"Affirmative boss. Patrol Unit 356 is in the area as well. ETA is 7 minutes. Will meet you there. Over and out."

Harvey asked, "You hear that Dick? We got two extra units and I'm coming down. Be there in 10. I may not be your superior, but I'm gonna ask you to wait. Remember what happens when you run into stuff like this headfirst without thinking?"

"Yes Harvey. I'll wait for you. Grayson out." He put the mic back down and roared off to the docks. "I hope I'm right with this."

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A/N: Well, what did you think? Should I keep this going or is it a major flop? Review and let me know. If I get at least 5 reviews, I'll write another chapter for the story.

If you are interested in being a co-author, like I said earlier, gimme a PM. I'll ask that if you do wish to pair with me, that you have an MSN capable e-mail address so we can talk about this "face-to-face" instead of waiting for e-mails to come and go.

Love, peace and chicken grease!

Dash