Author's Note: This is all Bearhow's fault, especially the magnificent art of Match that he made for me and that graces the cover of this story. Thanks, Bear!

For those that are reading about Match for the first time, she is one of my OCs from a while ago. Her story is still my Magnum Opus at 20 chapters and more than 90k words, so it's not surprising that I quickly caved in to Bearhow's suggestion to reboot her. There are very few changes that I did to her character, most notably she has been de-aged to 22-23 years old. The Titans are all around 20 or slightly older, and they are all in established, mostly canon relationships (RobxStar and BBxRae). You don't need to read the original story to get to know Match, but you're welcome to do it if you wish. Note that the original story is old and I have improved a lot as a writer since, so read it at your own peril.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my OC and the plot.

-=oOo=-

Dammit, I was going to be late.

"Terribly sorry, Miss," the cabbie turned his turbaned head to look at me with an apologetic grin flashing on his dark-skinned face. "These things, they happen."

Fuck.

"Not your fault," I grumbled and pulled a couple of bills out of my pocket. They must've felt pretty lonely there, with no friends to keep them company. The cabbie would take better care of them than I did. "Keep the change."

I left the cab and shut the door on his profuse thanks, looking along the street lanes choked with stalled, honking cars. Two blocks ahead I could see smoke and the lurid glow of a fire.

As I watched, a car sailed up through the smoke. The glass of its windscreen winked merrily as it spun in the bright sunlight, before it crashed down and turned into a fireball. Business as usual in Jump City, or so I've been told. Car insurance must be insanely high here; good thing that I don't own one.

Not that I really need it, you see. But I didn't want to attract attention. Even in this place, choked full of metahumans, mutants, aliens and all other sorts of weirdos and freaks, the sight of someone zipping overhead perched on a transparent disk would cause a few raised eyebrows. And let's not forget the smartphone pics and videos that would be plastered immediately all over the social networks. Definitely not the best way to keep a low profile.

If this was a normal mission, I wouldn't really mind if someone took a picture of me and posted it for all the world to see. Hell, I'd probably even welcome the advertisement. After all, I'm running sort of a business here, providing a certain service and hopefully getting paid for it.

In case you didn't know, I'm a bounty hunter.

But I wasn't hunting any bounties today. My current target was self-imposed. Not only would it pay out handsomely, there was also a touch of personal interest mixed in it. Both business and pleasure, you could say.

Be that as it may, while I was enjoying my own rambling thoughts and the car-juggling show two blocks away, my subconscious reached a decision and allowed it to float up to the rational shallows of my brain. I glanced at my watch and grunted. Yep, I was late. The job was a bust; it seemed logical that I should look for alternatives wherever they presented themselves.

I rarely question what my subconscious mind decides to do. It is, after all, part of me. I work under the assumption that it has my best interests at heart, and that it knows what it's doing.

And that, kids, is a sure way to get yourselves into deep trouble.

-=oOo=-

I conjured up a levitating disk and hopped on it, directing it to fly over the street clogged with immobilized cars. It was not the first time I saw such a scene and it never ceased to amaze me. It takes a real idiot to stay inside a trapped vehicle while a block away all hell is breaking loose. Were they hoping the jam would just magically clear up? Did they feel safer inside those flimsy tin walls? Was the car and its contents more valuable than their own lives?

Of course, it never crossed my mind that idiots though they may be, they weren't the ones rushing headlong towards ground zero. Probably because it takes a special kind of moron to do this kind of shit for a living in the first place.

My disks are slippery – a force field doesn't generate any friction, you see – so I can't go at more than some sixty miles per hour without the wind blowing me off my platform. Yeah, yeah, so I'm not the fastest flying thing around. Still, it was fast enough to get to the problematic intersection in a few seconds and land behind a couple of Jump City's finest huddling behind their cruiser. I had serious doubts about the capability of their car to provide any protection, seeing that someone or something was already playing beer pong with several other vehicles of the same kind. I jumped off, dismissed the disk and called out.

"Hey, handsome! What's blocking the streets?"

Both cops turned. One was older, fatter and probably wiser. I was addressing the other one; he had a much better-looking ass.

"Get back!" the cute-assed cop shouted. How about that, he's concerned and wants to protect me. Isn't he a real sweetheart?

"I can take care of myself, honey!" I told him sharply, hoping he'll get the message. He just ducked and waved me away, not even sparing me a second glance. Quite understandable, considering that his entire attention – and mine, too – was turned to another cruiser that just appeared, skipping, spinning and somersaulting its way towards us trailing its own debris, like a gymnast giving a gold-medal performance, all in that perfectly clear and focused slow motion that adrenaline rush always brings up.

It would be a spectacle to die for, if only I didn't have other plans. I created a twelve feet wide force-disk in front of us as a shield. I made it thin and sharp enough to sink it about a foot into the pavement and brace it that way. You see, you can't break a force field, and no material object, energy or radiation could ever penetrate it. But it's my mind that creates the disk, and when a ton and a half of police cruiser slams into it, I can feel it.

Painfully.

Thanks to the foresight I had to brace the shield first, the pain of the impact was reduced to a quick but raw jab between my eyes. Still, it was far from pleasant, and it made me a bit angry.

The vehicle smashed into the shield and bounced off, tumbling away and shedding whatever wheels, broken glass and spare parts it still had, until it came to rest upside down on its roof. The two cops stared at it wide-eyed, then turned to me. I gave them a wide grin.

"As I said, I can take care of myself."

The older cop regarded me with suspicion, but the rookie's eyes were aglow. "Are you one of the Titans?"

Another flash of irritation swept through me. Of course, I knew who the Titans were. Bringing myself up to date with any possible opposition I may face when I move to a new hunting ground was not only an important survival technique, it was plain common sense. Even if I didn't read up on them before I showed up in their back yard, they would be hard to miss. It was impossible to take a single fucking step anywhere in Jump without them being shoved in your face from a headline or a screen or a billboard.

Add to that a natural animosity that every bounty hunter feels towards superheroes and you'll understand my annoyance. I mean, how do you compete with someone that provides a similar service for free? No wonder so many of my colleagues have a tendency to cross the line in the sand that separates the lawful from the criminal the minute they think nobody's watching. Just like I do.

My anger was, however, pointless at the moment. I swallowed it and batted my lashes at the uniformed hunk. "No, sweetie, but for you I can be anything you want…"

His face flushed crimson and I chuckled. What can I say, I love doing that.

"If you two are all done, we could perhaps go back to worrying about Cinderblock, there?" the older cop growled.

"Cinderblock, huh?" I mumbled. He – sorry, it – was in my files, too. The overgrown lawn ornament was big, strong, and about as smart as you'd expect from something that has concrete for brains. It was supposed to be quite tough, being made entirely of cement. But that part bothered me the least.

Well, this situation looked like it was turning into a business opportunity, so I crouched beside them and turned my attention to the older cop. Yes, the rookie was hot, and I don't mind mixing some pleasure into my professional life, but it was obvious which one of those two was calling the shots. Besides, the cutie-pie had a wedding ring. Call me old-fashioned, but I have this thing against breaking up relationships just to take the edge off.

"Any bounties out on it?"

The younger blueshirt frowned in puzzlement. Hadn't he seen a bounty hunter before? That was good news, it meant I was in virgin territory. My mouth watered.

Pudgy-cheeks scoffed disdainfully. "You're wasting your time here, girl. Any minute now the Titans –"

He was interrupted by a car that flew overhead and smashed into the building just behind. Its fuel tank exploded and a rain of metal, glass, brick and burning fuel fell on us.

Once the debris stopped falling I dismissed the shield I created to protect us from being crushed and burned. "You were saying?" I inquired, as politely and sweetly as you'd wish.

His lips tightened into a hard line, but he pulled out a communicator and spoke softly and angrily into it. The young cop scowled at me. I rolled my eyes and sighed. An idealistic sweetheart? He'll grow out of it soon enough.

His partner finished the consultation and turned his somewhat flushed face my way. "Ten grand. But it's valid only until the Titans arrive. Once they do –"

"Oh, fuck your Titans!" I snarled at him. I was really sick and tired of it. "If they ever drop by, tell 'em to just sit back and enjoy the show!"

I formed a levitation disk and jumped on it. Yeah, I know I have a temper. I suppose all redheads do. I should really learn to control it.

But then again, anger makes my adrenaline pump, and I like to use all the advantages I have. I never play fair. That's why I'm still alive.

-=oOo=-

I flew a quick circle around the giant rampaging bird bath. It noticed me and tossed a car my way as a welcome. I skipped aside with a sharp turn of the disk to avoid his thoughtful gift and frowned. It didn't appear as dumb as the file led me to believe. It ripped a streetlamp out of the pavement and went after me, swinging it like an old man chasing a fly with a swatter. I flitted a bit back, trying to think of a tactic that would bring the stony abomination down without putting my own ass in danger. I've been told I have a nice ass, and I'm kinda attached to it. No sense risking damage to it.

It flung the streetlamp at me like a spear and roared. Again I dodged the missile easily while I allowed myself a grim smile. If the thing could roar, it just might have some internal structure.

I created a throwing disk – about ten inches in diameter and a fraction of a nanometer thick, one of my standard weapons – floating above the fingers of each hand, and threw them at the monster.

I suppose some of you may be surprised that I was trying to take down a fifteen-foot cement golem with a couple of flimsy disks. You'd expect them to simply bounce off the hard surface, right? Wrong.

If you want a scientific explanation, a nerd gave it to me a while ago while we cuddled in bed. At the sub-nanometer scale the force field has no issues penetrating between the atoms and molecules that create any material object and at the same time interfering with the electromagnetic forces that hold all that shit together.

In less technical terms, a force field that's thin and sharp enough will cut effortlessly through anything, and I mean anything – wood, stone, metal, glass, concrete. And, of course, flesh.

Knowing this, it shouldn't be surprising that my disks sliced into the rough grey surface and buried themselves completely inside. Once they were out of my sight I couldn't maintain them any longer and they dissolved, but not without leaving a couple of deep, wound-like slits in the concrete. A thick grey liquid oozed out and solidified almost instantly in contact with the air. Cinderblock roared again, this time with a distinct note of pain in its voice.

It bent and scooped up a half-ton chunk of pavement, then hurled it at me. So much for it having any vulnerable internal structure. Apparently I just gave it a couple of paper cuts and made it very angry.

I barely had time to create a defensive disk. The torn-up slab of pavement smashed into the shield and for a moment I saw stars. I flitted back and shook my head to clear it, trying to get the awareness of my surroundings back.

Indescribably heavy thuds made the ground shake and the few car alarms that were not already wailing kicked in to add their own melody to the general cacophony. I looked up and gulped; Cinderblock was running at me with arms outstretched. A hit from any of those huge fists would turn me into raspberry jelly, and there was a building behind me. I was running out of retreat space and with that, out of options.

I acted without thinking. I crouched on the levitating disk and my left hand seized hold of its edge to keep me stable as I made it fly at full speed to meet the behemoth thundering towards me. Its right arm pulled back and arced forward to swipe me away. I dipped the disk down until it was grazing the ground and pulled my head in, hunching as low as I could. I felt the wind from the stone fist as it swooshed above my head. It was the opening I was waiting for. My right hand shot up and a force-disk appeared over my knuckles, extending and stretching out quickly into a four-feet-long bladelike ellipse.

The force-blade bit into the creature's arm and sheared cleanly through it, taking the entire appendage off. It must have weighed at least a ton; the sudden change in weight distribution made Cinderblock lose its balance, spin and trip. Its enormous inertia carried it forward to smash head-first into the building behind me.

I tilted the flying disk into a sharp turn and slowed down. The severed arm's fingers were still twitching; the grey liquid had solidified quickly and covered the wound with a hard scab. Very little of it seeped on the pavement. My eyebrow went up; it looked like it would take a lot of effort to put this one down.

I stopped a couple of dozen feet from the cloud of dust that billowed and expanded from where Cinderblock rammed its head through the wall. I had the feeling that –

Yep. That's why I trust my gut instincts. It roared out of the churning dust veil, hell-bent on spreading me very thinly over a very large area. Now I'm all for trying out new sensations and all sorts of kinky stuff, but you'll excuse me if I pass on that particular feeling. I floated back and up, out of its reach. It began pelting me with pieces of metal and chunks of masonry that were strewn abundantly around, making me wince every time a heavier piece struck my shield.

Now I've been in this business for like six years, since I was sixteen or so. I've had heavy objects strike my shields before, and felt the unpleasantness and pain it causes many times. But I seldom had the dubious pleasure of being continuously bombarded and feeling like someone was repeatedly jabbing a not-so-sharp screwdriver into my brain.

It angered me.

I angled the disk forward and rushed towards it. It tried to twist and hit me as I aimed for his armless side, but it was too slow and too clumsy. I flashed past and took off its leg with a swipe of my blade, then swerved hard with a lurch that almost threw me off the disk and sped back to attack it from behind as it teetered on the one leg it had left.

I was going nowhere near that concrete fist, though. Again I whooshed by it, chopping off its other leg. Its remaining arm waved comically as it tried to regain its balance, then it tipped over and fell with a deafening crash on its back.

I descended and floated closer over its slab-like torso, making sure I was out of reach of its remaining fist. I glided forward, wanting to peer over the cliff of its shoulders and into its face.

Its arm moved and its hand groped around, closing around the base of a streetlamp. No matter the damage I caused, it still had the strength to wrench it out of the ground and try to bash my head in. I hastily brought up a shield to block it and the streetlight bent like a pretzel around its edge. But the impact was hard enough to ignite a blinding flash of pain inside my head.

Red haze filled my eyes. If the fucking thing wanted to play Monty Python with me, I was going to oblige. I dismissed my levitating platform and jumped down on its belly, extending blades from both hands and spinning in a windmill strike. The first hit took off the grey, block-like fist at the wrist. The second blow struck right below the elbow, chopping away the rest of the forearm. I bent my wrist as I finished my spin to lower the blade and make the third and final cut arc downwards to bite right under Cinderblock's shoulder, cleaving through the upper arm and all the way into its chest, almost shearing off my own toes in the process. But my rage was not yet satisfied.

I stepped back over the concrete chest and thrust mercilessly downwards with both hands. The blades sank into the stone as if it were water. I tore them out, widening the wounds, and moved towards the thing's head. An almost plaintive moan burbled from the cement throat.

The only thing I can say in my defense is that I don't fall into berserk bloodlust often. When I do, however, it's not a pretty sight.

I glanced down over the massive, square shoulders. My jaw was clenched in a cramp so tight my teeth hurt and my lips were curled back in a rictus-like grin. I stared down into the two red crystals of its eyes, dull and expressionless. I hesitated for a moment, but not because of any feeling of mercy. I was far beyond having any.

I wanted to kill.

I growled and raised my arms, clasping my hands. A six feet long elliptical blade shimmered into existence beneath my joined fists, pointing downwards and glimmering softly in bluish rainbows where the light broke as it filtered through it. I took a deep breath to scream out my fury and my hatred before stabbing it down through those lusterless eyes.

Azarath Metrion ZINTHOS!

My hands were suddenly encased in a black mist that immobilized them. The blackness spread quickly over my arms and body until it reached my legs, leaving me unable to move.

I twisted my head to look at the place where the words were shouted from. A female figure in an indigo-blue cloak floated in the air with her arms flung wide apart, wispy black tendrils curling from her hands to coil around me in a grip that was as tenuous as it was unbreakable. I snarled in rage; I was not going to be denied the pleasure of the kill.

I couldn't move, but I didn't really need to. My blades and disks are easier to control with the help of muscle memory, but I can still form and guide them even when trussed up in strands of black energy. A disk appeared and sank into the thick obsidian mist joining us, cleaving partly through it and stopping. If I had any rationality left, I'd be astonished; there was nothing that behaved this way.

No known matter can stop a sub-nanometer force field. Only another force field can, and the two will clash and claw at each other but won't be able to penetrate. I've never heard of any substance, energy or power that could stop a force-blade halfway through.

But I was far from caring about technical details. The only thought in my mind was to remove the blue-cloaked nuisance and get back to my killing. I sent two more disks spinning out, and this time she was the target. One disk was aimed directly at her, while the other curved slightly to the side to cut her in half if she tried to avoid the first one. I had given in to my rage completely; right now the only coherent thought in my head was that she had dared to stop me, and for that she would die first.

Before the disks could reach her something crashed into my side and threw me away, tumbling head over ass. My disks vanished as the impact dazed me. I managed to catch a glimpse of a large green goat before I flew over the edge of Cinderblock's chest and dropped the five or so feet down to the pavement.

My training took over and I fell rolling over my shoulder, gaining several bruises but not breaking anything. I continued to roll, still only half conscious, trying to retreat and get my bearings. I ended up on my back, staring at the sky for a moment. I staggered up on my feet and lifted my head just to see five hundred pounds of green tiger leaping at me.

It slammed into me before I was able to expand a defensive shield, throwing me back on the ground and making my head bounce off the pavement. Fighting the nausea, the flashing lights and the dizziness, I made a short blade over my right fist, ready to either stab the animal in the head or hack it off. Then I felt the tips of long, sharp talons digging into my neck and throat and I froze.

Blank, white eyes glared at me. Slavering jaws with curved, killer fangs grinned warningly in my face. A soft but menacing growl purred through the warm depths of the animal's maw.

The daze from the blow to my head cleared, taking away also the murderous rage that had gripped me. I scowled back into the green feline's eyes and my hand moved, itching to bury the blade into its ear. The pressure of the claws increased in response and the growling took on a deadly note. I froze again.

We were in a tie. Neither one of us could slash at the other fast enough to avoid the lethal retaliatory blow, nor could we retreat without getting instantly killed.

Great. Now what?

Heavy, metallic footsteps approached. I heard mechanical clacking and whirring. "Lose the blade," a deep, dry voice prompted me. I risked a glance over.

For a moment I thought the huge guy standing beside me was wearing armor, but I realized almost immediately he was half-machine. It finally brought up the memory of the files I've read. I groaned and dismissed the blade.

The half-robot – Cyborg – was pointing his arm at me, and at the end of it there was something that looked a lot like the barrel of a weapon. That would be his sonic cannon.

"Got her covered, B," he grumbled at the green tiger. "Y'all can let her go."

The green beast retreated and morphed into a young man. He was obviously Beast Boy, the Titans' shapeshifter. Late teens or early twenties, a handsome face and hard, cold eyes that looked like they preferred to be warm and playful. Cute, elven-like, pointed ears. I wouldn't mind nipping them to see if they were as sensitive as they appeared to be. A fang protruded out of his lower lip.

"I'll check on Rae," he growled and went over to the blue-cloaked girl that had since landed and now waited a few dozen feet away. She appeared hesitant to approach us for some reason. A hood covered her head, but I could see the lower part of a pale, delicate-featured face and a lovely, full-lipped mouth. A pair of eyes glowed a soft amethyst from the depths of the hood. I wondered how she looked beneath that cloak.

I heaved myself up, following the green one with my eyes. He approached the girl – that would be Raven, the sorceress, the one with the most blanks and question marks in her file – and spoke quietly to her. She nodded and a small, elegant hand slid from under the cloak to touch his arm. The corners of her mouth curled up in a tiny, affectionate smile and she whispered something back.

I looked away. For some reason I felt like I was intruding on an intensely personal exchange. I began dusting myself off to hide my sudden embarrassment.

"What are you doing in Jump City?" a cold voice made me look up to see who was talking.

"It's a free country," I snapped back at the speaker. It was Robin, the leader of this merry gang of do-gooders. He didn't look too intimidating, but appearances can be deceiving. I warned myself not to underestimate him. If anything, he'd been trained by the Big Bad Bat himself, and that was nothing to scoff at.

"Not for you, it isn't!" he brushed away my irritation with a hard frown and a hint of menace in his voice. "I'm placing you under arrest for attempted murder, assault, battery and mayhem."

I rubbed the back of my head and winced at the pain that still smoldered there. "Bullshit."

The masked eyes narrowed. "I'd recommend you come along quietly, Match."

I lifted an eyebrow before realizing I shouldn't be surprised, then gave him my sweetest smile. "Oh, you know my name?"

He shrugged. "We have files."

"I bet you do." The smile dropped off my face and I scowled. "Does your file tell you that if you try anything I'll bring up charges of false imprisonment, unlawful restraint, kidnapping and wrongful arrest?"

"You can't do that," he snorted.

"Honey, the only thing I can't do is arrest you for bad taste in clothing. If it were against the law, you'd be guilty as sin!"

A guffaw exploded from Cyborg. My smile widened, but my gaze remained fixed on Robin. "I shouldn't really complain," my eyes swept carefully and suggestively over his admittedly appealing figure. There was a lot to see, and all of it quite yummy. "If anything, it's another good reason to get you out of them."

He blushed fiercely and turned to signal to the cops to come over, trying to hide his discomfort. I chuckled.

"Anyway, enlighten me. Who did I attempt to murder, in your oh-so-expert opinion?"

He glared back at me over his shoulder. "Raven."

I dismissed it contemptuously. "Self-defense. She wrapped me up in black magic. I was being… strangled."

"That's a lie!" he shouted, outraged. "Raven would never –"

"– convince the jury she wasn't!" I finished for him.

His jaw jutted out. I waited for his next attempt.

"You butchered Cinderblock –"

"– who couldn't even be considered alive, let alone a person!" I sneered at him. "Face it, Traffic Light! The worst thing you've got against me is a vandalism misdemeanor, and considering that it –"I jerked my head at the prone concrete creature that was still emitting low, gravelly moans, "– doesn't have an owner, you'd have a serious problem trying to get that accusation to stick!"

His teeth ground against each other. He turned to the cops that have since joined us and were listening to our exchange. "Can you arrest her?" he asked in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Robin, but she's right," a cop said, scratching beneath his cap. How about that, it was my fatso friend. "That's the reason guys like Cinderblock and Overload go through the revolving door before it even stops spinning. You don't have to be much of a lawyer to have them walk free in a heartbeat."

The cop frowned at Cinderblock's form. "There is some poetic justice in it all. The law doesn't protect us from them, but it doesn't protect them from us, either," he grumbled, then sighed. "A bucket of mortar and a trowel and it'll be back on its feet right away. Until the next time."

I grinned my triumph and was just about to leave and discuss my hard-earned bounty with the fat cop, when she landed in front of us. Even the cops were left open-mouthed, and they probably see her every day.

It's impossible to exaggerate when you try to describe how absolutely gorgeous Starfire is. Oh, there were pictures and videos in the file, but they were sadly, dismally unable to even come close to the real thing. I felt like a scrawny scarecrow beside her, but that didn't prevent me from staring, completely mesmerized.

"Is everything well, dearest?" she asked Robin. Dear God, not only she looked like the quintessence of a dream, even her voice was beautiful, melodious and sensual at the same time. For a brief moment, Robin skyrocketed to the top of the long list of people I hate.

I shook myself off and ran a hand over my buzz-cut, pulling on the lock I left growing above my forehead. "I'll be off, then," I grumbled to no-one in particular and turned to leave.

"Is she not the criminal?" I heard Starfire ask innocently. "Shall we not apprehend her?"

"It's a long story," Robin mumbled darkly.

"It is?" her perplexed reply came to my ears. I shrugged it off and walked away feeling tired, which was not surprising. I should finish the paperwork with the cop so that they can deposit my bounty –

Starfire flitted quickly around to land in front of me, observing me with a puzzled frown on her face. "If you are not the criminal, why did you attack friend Raven?"

"Star…" Robin's warning voice came from behind me.

"I wish to know," she dismissed him while keeping her eyes on me.

I sighed. "I was defending myself."

She shook that glorious mane of hers. "That cannot be correct. Friend Raven would never hurt anyone."

Somehow it made me feel like shit. I've stared down some pretty nasty people in my life, but right now I couldn't meet her eyes. "I didn't know that," I muttered defensively. At least my words had a little grain of truth in them.

Her disturbingly green eyes studied me. "You are the warrior," she said as if that explained everything.

The whole situation was getting way too uncomfortable. Anger crackled through me again and gave me the strength to return her gaze. "I'm a survivor," I strained the words through my teeth.

"No," she shook her head again. "I could see it. You were lost in the rage of the battle. It is the mark of the warrior."

"She's a menace, that's what she is!" a deep growl interrupted us. Beast Boy had just padded over soundlessly to stand behind us. "She reeks of anger. She's upsetting Rae." The last words were as sharp as his claws, and just as dangerous.

"Whatever," I tried to shrug it all off and turn away. Starfire's hand grasped my arm.

"I recognized it because I was like you." Her voice was heavy with earnest concern. "The fury, the lust for the blood, the exultation in the battle. It is like the drug. It gives the strength, but it eats you from the within."

"Not much there to eat," I snarled and tore my arm away from her grasp. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

I walked away, feeling their eyes watching me. Some with amusement, some with concern and some with distrust. I forced it all away from my mind and looked for the fat cop. I had ten thousand reasons to talk to him.

A thought struck me hard enough to make me stop in mid-stride, ponder it for a moment and then whirl to face the Titans again.

"Robin!" I called out. "What kept you guys?"

The expression on my face must've told him I was serious and not indulging in frivolous needling. "There was a drug delivery at the pier. We received intel –"

"Did you stop them?" I cut him off.

"We did," he frowned, unable to understand why I was interested. Of course, I wasn't going to tell him that I was on my way to that same place. My original mission was to crash that party and make off with the cash the criminals were certainly carrying. That was the business part. And if I had to kill them all to get to the money, well, that's where the pleasure part came in.

I have a personal vendetta against drug dealers. One of their kind fucked me up, stole three years of my life and gave me nightmares to keep me company for whatever remains of it. That's without mentioning the constant craving which never really goes away. As far as I was concerned, a good pusher is a dead pusher, and they get better the more pieces I cut them into.

"Any big names?" I insisted.

I could feel the eyes behind the mask bore into mine, trying to figure me out. "No. Just the usual goons. The police is probably already interrogating them. I hope we'll have some more data soon."

I looked pointedly at Cinderblock's torso laying brick-like on the debris-littered street. "I wouldn't hold my breath."

He followed my gaze and nodded, his frown deepening. He was already thinking along those lines. Cinderblock was obviously supposed to lure them away from the drug delivery, but it fucked up its timing and the error made it start its rampage just a few minutes too late. By the time it turned downtown into a war zone, the Titans were already dealing with its associates.

Seeing how Robin reached that same conclusion even before I did, I felt both a sense of growing respect and a twinge of apprehension. He's clearly as dangerous and capable as his file suggested, and he knows how the criminal mind works. I got lucky today, but that just meant he'd make damn sure it doesn't happen again. I'll have to watch my step very carefully during my stay in Jump City.

The revelation opened several new questions, however, and the most obvious and most important one was –

"Who do you think is behind it?" I ventured to ask.

He glanced back at me, his look as blank as his mask. "None that I'd care to discuss," he said curtly and turned to join his friends, dismissing me.