It started in a warehouse. It started in a home. It started with the knowledge. It started with a boy. It started by an accident. It started with a purpose. It started with one getting lost on his path in life. Uncovering another path that was once buried in brush. And the path less traveled by was the one that was taken. And that had made all the difference.

The story goes from the eyes of three. A boy, a man, and a question. Each with their own stories, secrets and questions of their own. To find the answers they must uncover the truth behind the path that has been taken. Only then will answers arise.

-.-

Central was fairly quiet. Wind picked up as Flash did his rounds in the city looking for anyone who needed help. So far though, he had only gotten a cat out of a tree. He was officially bored. During his last round however things started to get interesting. He heard fighting. Coming from a warehouse. He quickly decided this was probably not from his normal gallery. Common thugs. He better put a stop to whatever was going on in there. He ran in quickly and surprisingly quiet. He could be real stealthy if he wanted to be. He chose not to. And with his speed he could get away with it.

He did that when he wanted to see something happen and then stop it before it got out of control with people thinking he had just arrived. It was a bad habit he either learned from his uncle or Batman. Maybe J'onn?

He shrugged his shoulders. Not that it mattered where he got it from.

He hid behind some crates in the warehouse to see what was going on. It looked like some gang members were here. All wearing black leather. Weapons in their hands. He heard sniffling. Either a girl or a small child. Flash tightened his hands into fists. The sniffling stopped. A shuffle of movement was heard.

"Aw look, kid don't want to play no more?" one laughed mercilessly. Only a grunt could be heard. Flash takes a step forward. No more Mr. Quiet hero. Though in less than a second he was silenced. A roar echoed in the warehouse. A jungle cat roar. A blur jumped into the air and latched onto one of the gangster's head. He flailed violently trying to get the hissing purple blur off of him. One of the gangsters tried to hit the blur off with a crowbar. But the blur jumped off making the gangster hit the other in the mouth. The blur jumped onto another's back. Soon they were beating each other trying to hit the purple blur. They all went down like dominoes until one shaky person was left standing. He fell at the hand of a young teen in purple. He was peculiar. Looked more like a Gothamite rather than a Centralian.

His outfit was skin tight. Well-fitting his skin. His hands and feet looked like they were wearing paws. Purple war paint on his face. But his most outstanding features were the purple cat ears, the cat tail, and the purple spot in his hair. The kid had no emotion on his face. Not until he sighed in what sounded like relief as he began to fall to the ground. Flash ran up to him and made sure he didn't fall. He was smaller up close. He was a rather scrawny kid. But unlike any he had ever really seen. He gasped when he saw the outfit disappear in smoke. Now the kid was in purple pants and a purple shirt that oddly looked like pajamas. He had no shoes on so Flash could see him move his toes in the cold air. His breathing was slow and calm. He muttered something about a computer. His voice was high and childish. The kid couldn't have been older than twelve. He shook a bit in Flash's arms, and then grabbing the fabric of his suit in his fists.

The boy whimpered slightly in his chest. He was adorable. He had no shame in admitting that. He was like a little stray kitten.

And despite what he had just seen, his gut was telling him not to take the boy to jail. He was ambushed after all. Just one night. Then he'd help get this kid home.

-.-

Question looked at the number on his caller ID again before answering. The number was one that he knew. One that he knew very well. But he hadn't seen, dialed or heard that number in years. It was his own sister's number.

"Hello?" he said over the phone. He was surprised to see she was calling. He was more surprised to hear her sobbing over the line. Now normally he would be all about conspiracies and have her do some crazy (yes he did admit some things were a bit crazy and farfetched) things in order for her to send him a message.

"Oh god… Vic? It's Melody. My… My…son," she continued sobbing unaware that Question was raising a curious eyebrow. His sister had five daughters which he had met and they hadn't talked since she was pregnant with the last child in which the doctor said it would be a girl. But then doctors lie in order to make people pay for the wrong items and/or treatment. So little Ophelia was a boy. Huh. Then the gifts for his birthday consisting of makeup and hair products weren't exactly what he was looking for. Harsh. And awkward.

"…He's missing," she said now bawling. He didn't say anything. She lived in freakin Italy! What was he supposed to do? It wasn't like she knew he was Question. But then again this may be just one of those girl "hysterical" calls he had heard other men complaining about before.

"Calm down sis," he said in his non-superhero voice, "How can I help?"

"Vic… he said something about a computer a few days ago. It almost sounded like one of those conspiracy theories you went on about when we were kids," she chocked out, "If anyone… anyone could help find him it's you."

"But I've never met the boy!" he complained.

"Vic please!" she begged. He sighed. Sisters.

"Alright. I'll get a flight and be over as soon as I can."

-.-

Opening his eyes slowly one thought entered the young blonde's head. Odd, you're not in Italy anymore.

He sat up confused seeing he was sleeping on a couch rather than his bedroom back home. The dwelling seemed of an American design. Smaller than most but it was an apartment by the looks of it. It was grey and lacked energy, but seemed to have life and personality.

"Now where am I?" he said in his usual high pitched voice. He heard a groan from another room. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. Crap!

…I don't know. Review?