Tales of the Titans: Crucible, chapter1
Chapter 1: A Matter Not Forgotten
"I'm not sure I understand, Captain. You've had deaths by disease before; such things have seldom required our help. Or yours, for that matter. Why is this one so different?" Robin was walking along with Captain Yeats of Jump City Homicide Division. Why was the captain being so secretive? He acted almost like he didn't want his own men to know.
"I can show you better than I can tell you. And I can't tell you….right here." Starfire and Devil Cat had accompanied Robin on his visit to the precinct, and were equally puzzled. The Captain had, in fact, specifically requested that Devil Cat be included.
Of course, the police captain's refusal to say anything did nothing to decrease their puzzlement.
"I've had to pull rank and call in a few favors to keep this here this long, literally 'under wraps,' but I think when you see it, you'll understand." Was all he'd say. Then he muttered, "I just hope you can help." The captain himself seemed almost jumpy, something Robin had never seen in him before.
He led them into the morgue in the basement of the precinct house. Seemed like morgues were often underground, Robin mused. Maybe something subconscious in the human psyche….
Yeats shoo'd the other officers in the room away, except for the chief medical examiner. Robin figured, whatever this was, he'd probably know all about it, anyway. The ME made as though to pull to sheet off of the figure lying altogether too still upon the table. "Wait," said Yeats, "everybody, gown and glove up. Just a precaution." He gave them a peculiar look. "I really don't think it's necessary, but better too careful than not."
Once so gowned and gloved, they again approached the gurney. Robin glanced at Devil Cat. Starfire, he knew, had seen dead bodies before, but he didn't know about her.
She caught him glancing at her. "Not to worry, Rob. I'm tougher than I look."
"You may need to be," said Captain Yeats, signaling for the ME to unveil the corpse.
The body thus revealed appeared to be that of a fairly young man, or at least so Robin guessed from his short-cut dark hair. Other than that, and the sexual organs, given that the corpse was naked, it would've been hard to guess, due to the severity of what had obviously killed him.
The body was covered in what appeared to be enormously swelled red welts from head to toe. So thoroughly covered was it, that it was impossible to determine the ethnicity of the deceased.
Yeats read from a sheet. "One Marcus Jordan, of 129th Street. His landlady found him like this when he failed to pay his rent on time, failed to answer his phone—evidently he's normally very prompt and studious about informing her when he's away-and, of course, called us immediately." He showed the paper to Robin. "Cause of death: apparently massive cellular infection. We estimate he'd been dead about two days."
Robin rubbed his chin with one gloved hand. "Well, it's certainly…unusual. But I still don't see why you called us in, or why Homicide's even involved. Death by… bee stings? Killer bees, maybe?"
Yeats was shaking his head. "Those aren't stings on him, nor are they bites. Rather, it's a sporadic—or perhaps not so sporadic, seeing as how it's all over him…inflammation of the skin. As to why I called you in," and here he nodded to the CE. The two of them turned the body over, so it lay face down.
And there, protruding from Jordan's lower back, was what was clearly the beginnings of a tail, with every sign of a developing stinger on the end. About three or four inches long.
They all looked at Kitten, who, in turn, brought up her poison-stingered tail, by way of comparison.
…