CLEANSING
by Concolor44
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Aaaaaaand the plot bunnies just won't leave me alone. I am TRYING to work on 'Gone Wylde', but it seems Real Life and my Muse have teamed up against that idea for some reason. Heaven alone knows why.
Anyway, this demanded to be written. We'll see where it goes.
[Disclaimer of Standardness: I own squat to do with the Titans. I make nothing off this. Kindly don't sue.]
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Two small clouds of dust scurried ahead of the car's massive, titanium-alloy frame when it came to an abrupt stop in front of the alley, the motes glittering softly in the sun's last dying rays. The doors opened and two young men stepped out, immediately striking a heavy contrast to anyone who saw them.
The passenger, black of hair and just shy of average height, nevertheless carried himself with the easy, unconscious grace of a great cat, sinuous motions that spoke of deadly power coiled and waiting. The driver, well over two meters in height and disproportionately broad, seemed to be wearing some kind of sophisticated and intricately articulated armor … until one realized that it wasn't armor. It was him. This fact was reinforced when each step he took sent slight tremors through the cracked and broken pavement.
It only took them a moment to find the Captain, whose expression of intense relief might have been comical if the situation had been less dire. "Thank God you got here! I don't know what to tell the press, and the Commissioner is waiting for some answers." He made a jerky 'this way' motion and trotted into the alley. Silent, the young men followed him.
The gathering dusk made the narrow alley a column of gloom, but Captain Gerard pulled out his flashlight and directed it at the wall. Robin winced. Cyborg grunted. Taking a reluctant step forward, Robin asked, "Got a name for this one?"
"Grady T. Barker."
"You know yet how he's connected to the others?"
"Not so much. All we know so far is that he's a Jump City native and has a rap sheet including armed robbery and assault."
"Is that … rebar? It looks like rebar."
"Yeah, best we can tell. Don't know where it came from. Does a hell of a job pinning him to the wall, though."
Vic leaned down and whispered to Robin, "He was probably part of the gang."
Robin turned a sardonic eye his way and responded, "Oh, you think?"
Captain Gerard didn't pick up any of the words, but he asked anyway, "Do you have any leads yet? This is the fourth in three days and …"
"We're working on it," was all Robin would vouchsafe. When interacting with the police, he played his cards in close.
Victor moved around and peered at the victim from another angle. "Is that … entrails?"
"Yeah," answered the Captain, not trying to hide his disgust. "Somebody thinks he's bein' cute."
"So. 'Number Nine' it says."
"Uh-huh."
"That would lead me to believe," said Robin, "that there will be at least five more of these if we don't find the killer."
"And the Commish is gonna have my badge if that happens. The Times-Gazette is having a field day with this."
Another vehicle came to a stop at the end of the alley and Captain Gerard huffed a sigh of frustration. "K-9 Unit. I hope to God this goes better."
Two officers got their dogs out of the back of the van and hurried into the growing darkness of the narrow defile. But some ten meters or so from the scene, the dogs balked. When urged on, they whimpered and pulled away toward the street. Robin watched with detached interest for a minute while the officers tried everything they knew to get the dogs into range to pick up a scent. But that just wasn't going to happen. Finally one of them gave the Captain a shrug and allowed his dog to pull him back to the van, the other team following close behind.
Cyborg muttered, "BB wouldn't've had that problem."
Robin replied, "If he were still here, we wouldn't be having this problem."
"… Yeah."
They turned back to the corpse and examined him more closely. "I don't see any … tool marks," observed Robin.
"Tool marks?" the Captain prompted.
"On the skin, where it's, you know … exposed."
"Oh. Yeah, we were kinda wondering how … how that was done. Flipping him inside out like that."
"Yes. Me, too." He considered the lawman and asked, "You ever skin a deer?"
"No. Never been hunting."
"Hmm. Well, even the most skillful hunter, when he skins a deer, can't avoid leaving the occasional cut mark in the skin. This … this is different. It looks like … huh. Cy, take a look at this."
"Yeah, I was noticin' that, too. Like it's about half-cooked. Reminds me of a chicken-processin' place I visited one time as a kid."
"… What?"
"Yeah. They separated the skin from the meat with live steam."
"… Huh. Yeah, okay. I can see how that might …"
The Captain interrupted him. "Live steam? How the hell?"
"We are working on that, Captain."
Cyborg pointed to the neck area. "This wasn't cut."
"Yes, I noticed that, too. It's like the skin … exploded."
"That would sort of explain his expression." The metallic teen drew a long breath and backed away. "Gettin' that feelin' again."
Captain Gerard looked at him, his eyes widening. "You feel it, too? Thought it was just my gorge."
"No. It's definitely … something."
Something, indeed. The longer they stayed in proximity to the corpse, the more unease they all felt, as if the air was getting denser, and … slimy. Robin gave an involuntary shudder and absently wiped at the back of his arm.
The Captain's phone rang and he spoke into it for a few seconds, then turned to the two Titans. "Coroner's four minutes out. I hope like hell she can get something from this one before … well … you know."
Robin did know. He'd been present the previous morning in the morgue when the coroner had started the autopsy on Contestant Number One. As soon as the victim's skin was breached, he began to … melt. In the space of three minutes there was nothing on the table (and the floor) but a malodorous puddle of brown liquid. "Perhaps she can attempt the autopsy in situ?"
"I'll mention it, but I doubt she'll go for it." He rubbed his arms and wrinkled his nose, taking several steps away. "Especially if she can feel the same … thing we are."
Cyborg caught a movement in the shadows farther down the alley, and frowned. "That one o' your men, Cap?"
They all looked to where Cy pointed, and the Captain got a hard look on his face. "Stinkin' paparazzi." He took a few steps that way and shouted, "Get out of here!" Then he pulled his radio and yelled, "Jensen! Got a live camera on your end!"
At that moment, Robin noticed several small, red points of light around where the Captain stood, jumped forward, and pulled him back. Then the three of them watched, dumbfounded, as the scattered bits of detritus in the alley, the dead leaves and straw wrappers and cigarette butts and used napkins all spontaneously burst into flame in the space of a second. Every item within five or six meters of the corpse came alight, and then they all were sucked into it. The body promptly caught fire itself, and burned furiously for half a minute, hot enough to drive them back a few steps. The cameraman got most of it before he was collared.
"Gimme that!" yelled officer Jensen as he snatched the camera away.
"Ha! Take it. Live feed. I got what I needed, and it's all safe back at Channel Four." He continued to chuckle at his good fortune, even as he was cuffed and loaded into a squad car.
Captain Gerard rested a fist against his forehead. "Hell's bells, that's all I need now."
Robin frowned. "If that film gets broadcast, it'll have a good chance of creating a panic."
"Exactly! You gotta help me out here! Give me something I can tell the Commissioner that'll keep my head off a pike!"
Robin stared at where the body had been: nothing organic remained. The half-dozen pieces of rebar had softened and twisted in the heat, and his skin crawled as he realized they spelled out the word 'NEXT' in a vertical script.
Victor placed a huge hand on his shoulder. "Rob?"
"… Yeah?"
"Don't you think it's … time to call in the JL on this? I mean, hell, man … we're seriously outta our league, an' I don't see it gettin' any better." He lowered his voice until Robin could just barely hear him. "An' she's escalating."
With a heavy sigh, the young man allowed his shoulders to slump the tiniest bit. "She is that, isn't she?"
Then, echoing around in both their heads, soft and sibilant, came the words, More than you know.
They startled badly and Robin looked wildly around. He whispered, "Raven?"
Again, their minds were flooded with her presence, only augmented now with fire and pain and darkness and bloodlust. Raven and I have had a talk. I'm going to stretch my legs for a bit now.
"Raven! Please! You have to maintain control!"
The flavor of the mental communication changed, softened again. Control is not a problem. She isn't doing anything I don't want her to do.
"But Raven …"
No. Your thinking is muddy. It is bogged down with compromise and stupid rules. That vague and inaccurate mindset is what got Gar killed. It is why Starfire is still in Intensive Care. And I won't have it. You must be sharp. You must accept what is coming. And then you must not hesitate.
"… Hesitate?"
To strike me down.
"… What?"
When I have finished. When their souls have been consumed and the unbridled emotion that is fueling Rage is satisfied.
"I don't understand!"
You said it. Control. She will attempt to stay in control, and that cannot be allowed. She might hurt you, and I will not have that.
"But … Raven, there has to be another way!"
Silence. The presence was gone, and with it the overburden of unease that had been pressing everyone to the ground.
A whispered, "Raven?" was swallowed by the night.
Victor caught his eye. "Rob?"
"Yeah?"
"This is totally gonna suck."
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A/N: This may or may not be Chapter 1 of a longer work. If it is, it likely won't be TOO much longer. Again, we'll just have to see.