It's sick, really. The way they laugh and joke, playing around as if nothing could ever touch them. Always feeling as if they were some great force that no evil could ever truly touch. Ever ignorant to the fact that they were some of the most horrendous people I had ever had the misfortune of having met in my life.

Justice was pure and concrete, while corruption was merely a foreign term used for those ex-governments that they learned about in history: non-existent to them.

Even though it didn't exist in their vocabulary, corruption was all around them. It enshrouded them, wrapped its sickly yet overbearing arms around them, covered their eyes to blind them from the truth. Corruption lived and thrived in our little team, hidden by ignorance and unknowingly loved by their benevolence.

The others were blinded to it. I wasn't.

The way M'gann or Artemis would stab you in the back if coerced convincingly had never been lost on me. I was not ignorant to the fact that, if threatened correctly, Superboy would give up all our secrets. All it took was a simple threat to M'gann's life and that clone was a malleable pawn. And I was more than aware about how Kaldur'ahm, our great and noble leader, would drop us in the middle of hell if instructed to do so by his supposed king.

Even Batman- the untouchable, infallible, virtuous, and ever righteous Dark Knight of Gotham- so great and so just, the justice oriented and never wavering Bat would do everything and anything in his power to ensure Robin's life, even if it meant having to leave someone to the wolves.

Corruption, deceit, and manipulation reigned over them like unseen and unknown gods they unwittingly paid tribute to every time they shrugged off their promises about upholding truth and justice to get their way.

They were now laughing because of our newest victory. Tickled by the rush of adrenaline, paired with the pride that came from having been victorious.

I correct myself, this is not only sickening, it is disgusting.

Yes, we caught Bane, but what how long would this incarceration last? A week? Maybe two if we're lucky, three if the prison he's kept in is now competent. But no more than that. Less than three weeks and he'll break out of this newest jail and get back on the streets. And once he got out, there was no way to assure the safety of those around him.

"Come on, Wally, why so glum?" Zatanna asked, smiling from her spot next to Robin. Her voice was irritating, to say the least, and made me frown deepen even further.

She was another problem. Too innocent. Too young. She didn't have any malice; and believe me, she didn't deserve to have any of it; and if she did, it was directed at the wrong person. Too new to the game, too green to take seriously. Yet she demanded respect as if she were a veteran, demanded to be seen as part of the hero community even though she had not worn those tights for longer than a few months.

Even though I wanted to sneer at her and explain every single reason as to why I was glum, I decided to give and fake my way through yet another uncomfortable conversation. With charming smile taking over my features, I shrugged, "I'm not glum, Zee. Is it hard to believe I sometimes think?"

She only laughed her annoying laugh, all the while Robin chuckled in pure ease.

God, I was already tired of this. Of them. Don't get me wrong, there is still a part deep inside of me that loves this team. I didn't really want to see any ill come to them, even though I wanted them to open their fucking eyes.

I wanted off of this team. I wanted to do what was right, what these so called heroes weren't ready to do. To go over the line they weren't ready to cross. The freedom to do whatever I wanted without having to worry about someone looking over my shoulder, deeply upset about my actions and thoughts.

"Oh, come on, Baywatch, stop joking!"

This enchantress- there was no way to get around this fact, no matter how much I wished it; the female was a mistress of deception and seduction- was the bane of my existence.

Without a doubt, Artemis was the main cause of my troubles with the Team. Bad blood doesn't necessarily equate to bad person. But she sure wasn't the poster girl for victorious hero that rose up from the ruins of a villainous family.

Masks were something I was constantly surrounded by. Not just in my hero work, but also in my regular life. I acted the parts that were set before me to keep everyone that mattered in my life happy. As a hero, I was the bumbling flirt known as Kid Flash. As a civilian, I was the bubbly and nerdy Wally West that always cracked horrible science puns. My true self was dangerous to show off, so I kept it hidden under layers of lies to keep it from hurting my loved ones.

Artemis wore her masks to protect no one but herself. Green Arrow's niece my ass, no one related to that man could ever be this horrible.

The loathing that bubbled up within me licked at my mouth, begged me to let her know that I was onto her little game. But I stifled it down, made the roaring forest fire within me become a much tamer campfire, something to warm me, but not hurt me.

"I'm not joking, Arty. I just like to think sometimes." I told her in an unimpressed deadpan, then stood up from my chair to look over the rest of the Mountain.

Everything was normal in this place. The Team's headquarters had not changed ever since I had stepped foot into it, and I was glad for this. The living room was still the same, still had the same furniture, still had the television turned onto static for Superboy's enjoyment.

It was nice to know that, even with all the changes I wanted in my life, there was still some kind of stability.

Although... Maybe I shouldn't want that stability if I truly wanted things to change.

"I'm going back to Central." I muttered hastily as I began to walk away from the teenagers sat around me.

My footsteps thundered in my ears, but it wasn't because of there being silence in the Mountain. Instead it was because I was always self aware of myself, my body, my mind. Everything I did was always extremely clear to me, always at the forefront of my mind.

The sudden exit, though, was cut off when I felt a hand fall onto my shoulder. So I stopped walking, shoes squeaking minutely against the floor beneath me, and turned to find Kaldur'ahm looking at me. His gray eyes were somewhat clouded, although I was unclear as to why this was. "Why are you leaving so soon, my friend?"

I offered him a lopsided smile, actually saddened to be leaving him. Even with his faulty views on loyalty, he was a good leader, a good teammate, and an even better friend. "Christmas is getting closer and Finals are kicking my ass, man. I have to study if I want to continue patrolling."

There was tension in his whole demeanor, and his nod was stiff. But I didn't comment on it, more than aware that the Wally West they knew wasn't supposed to notice things like that.

So I smiled, offered a jaunty little salute, then walked towards the Zeta to return to my hometown.

Undoubtedly, they all thought I'd return to my house. Which, in a way, I was doing. But not straight away. Before I returned to the one building I just about hated with all of my heart, I had a little pit stop to make.

As I ran down the streets of Central to get to Keystone- the League had decided that there was only need for one Zeta with speedsters involved-, I reviewed the details of the case I was working on at the moment.

Even though gangs were usually the objects of my loathing, I was not blinded to all the different kinds of criminals in the world. And, although serial killers were a bit of an anomaly to find working actively, one man had managed to find his way onto my radar.

When I had gone to my uncle's lab to give him the lunch he'd forgotten at home, I'd found the scientists there reviewing the details of a recent string of murders of women with very little things to connect them.

None of the victims had shared hair color, eye color, even physical height or build. But, they had all lived in some nice communities in Central or Keystone, and they were all found raped numerous times, with their bras and jewelry missing. 'Whore' had been written on their bare chests with the lipstick they had resting in their purses.

The killer had not been easy to track down. He had been good at covering most of his tracks. And he was even better at hiding his depraved thoughts from the rest of the world. Without a doubt in my mind, this bastard was sick and his existence needed to be ceased.

This bastard just happened to be my English teacher.

Recordings of the victims, tapes of their final moments, missing jewelry, almost missed evidence... The incompetence shown by the investigating minds in this case was annoying, but not baffling. Central and Keystone were busy cities, the deaths of some women weren't necessarily the most pressing issue. Especially when it had taken almost a month to figure out that they were all linked to one killer, and not just random rapes and robberies.

After I had reviewed my notes one final time with Mr. James, he had dismissed me. So I had gone towards the parking lot, heading straight towards his slick and well kept car.

My heart beat with excitement. And the smile that now rested on my face was one I couldn't get rid of.

There was always a giddy kind of excitement before a well deserved kill. I called it my justice jitters, something that let me know I could still feel happy.

Once I was at the car, I picked the lock and opened the passenger's door.

Just like the outside, the inside was kept clean and well organized. There was nothing out of place in this car, and, in all honesty, it seemed as if there were just nothing within. There was literally nothing inside of the car other than a clean interior. No cups or mugs, no hastily thrown paperwork, nothing.

But, if there was one thing I knew, it was that appearances were always deceiving.

The glove compartment was my first guess as to where Mr. James might be hiding something incriminating. But when I had opened it, it was only to find the car's instruction manual, a bunch of nicely organized receipts, and music CD.

"Nothing illegal 'bout crappy taste in music..."

The CD was one that had a too happy looking band on it, most wearing lederhosen.

I chucked it behind me without a single care, then pulled out the rest of the things that were inside of the compartment. Only to be met with a dark bottom, nothing incriminating showing off.

But there was something off about this. I knew it. There was a voice in the back of my head that there must have been something inside of the car.

The time between the women's kidnapping and their deaths all pointed to a rough two hours of being in this guy's hands. Which meant that he needed to be fast about his work. And the distance between the victims' homes and their final graves was huge, only crossed in car.

As I sucked at my bottom lip, I took a chance and knocked on the bottom of the compartment. It looked somewhat hollow to me, but this was also an older car model. I could have been- "Hollow. This shit's hollow."

Immediately I began to work on ripping out the fake bottom. And as soon as I had gotten rid of the make-shift cover and thrown it out, I found quite the welcomed sight.

A knife. Long, elegant, and thick enough to match the stab wounds in the women's bodies.

"Bingo."

If my smile had been uncontrollable before, there was no way to describe it now.

From the backpack on my shoulders, I pulled out my thick black gloves and grabbed the knife.

Mr. James was a smart man. But not smart enough.

"Now... If I were a sick and deprived bastard that needed to keep my trophies with me at all times, where would I leave them?" I murmured to myself in a completely amused way, more than sure of where I would be checking for evidence next.

I walked over to the door beside me and opened it, peering into the backseats.

Appearances in this car were deceiving. There would be nothing within the center console, it was too obvious. Especially for trophies that came from women. And if the murder weapon was kept close to him, accessible enough even though it was hidden, then he would have kept the underwear close too.

"Those seats look awfully nice."

With a twirl of the knife, I slammed it down onto the nearest chair and pulled it down. Peering within, I found that there was a thin layer of underwear, and, beneath, there was what looked like leather, "Son of a bitch covered the chairs with the trophies, then covered them up."

Smart. Not many would think to search a car so deeply. But I wasn't the many. And I had been around people like him before. This wasn't my first rodeo.

There was enough evidence in the car to show off that he was the killer. My only question right now happened to be just where in the world he'd kept the jewelry.

Night had fallen and darkness wrapped over me like a comforting blanket. I'd always relished in the darkness, it had brought me comfort when the light had forsaken me. This was my element.

Mr. James' room was dark as I entered. But I could hear him rummaging around his desk, loud and clumsy.

Slowly, I scraped the blade of the knife against the desks I passed. The slight vibrations that came from the friction was tantalizing, a kind of pre-show before the main event.

Once I neared his desk, I clasped both my hands behind my back to hide the knife. Then I cleared my throat, causing the man sorting his files to suddenly jump and throw his papers all around him.

I smirked down at him as his green eyes stared up at me. He was startled.

"Jesus, Wallace, you scared me." He huffed out, only to glare down at the fallen papers. "Did you leave something?"

I looked away, and my eyes fell on a painting of the nine muses as they danced around a fire.

Mr. James' room had always made the females of the school feel uneasy. There were paintings of all kinds of women in different poses, most provocative and undermining. Quite frankly, I felt violated myself whenever I walked in here. "You know, I never understood that." I offered conversationally, turning back to look at him.

I actually did understand why men were sometimes disgusting pigs thought of women as mere objects to toy around with for their amusement. Not all men, mind you. But there were too many of them in the world as it was. Just look at my English Teacher.

He pushed up his thick glasses, "Just what are you doing here, Wallace?"

"I asked you a question." I grunted, eyes narrowing slightly, "Why do the muses have to be depicted like that?" I pressed on. "I mean, what kind of society do we live in where women only get their point across when they're naked?"

The annoyance that had etched itself into his features slowly morphed into confusion. His brown eyes shined with lack of understanding. And it sickened me.

"What are you going on about? I don't understand."

I sighed, my right arm beginning to twitch in excitement. I never could control my jitters when my targets played dumb. "No, you wouldn't, Mr. James," As I sighed, I looked away from him and towards the painting once more. "you agree too much with those ways."

"Just what-"

"Have you heard about the most recent string of murders?"

He was most probably caught off-guard by this question, if his quickened breathing pace was an indicator. But I didn't look at him. Instead I continued to gaze at the painting to my left, taking note of how Urania with her globe and compass in hand seemed to be a bit too chummy with Clio, the history muse's scrolls at her feet.

"Really, it's just sad. Five women raped and killed because a despicable man got horny."

"I-I don't understand why you're telling me this. But I don't find this funny." His voice gained some force, but he was still a sniveling little rat. "Now please leave my room!"

"Did you know the police weren't able to link the women to the same killer until today?" Now I turned to look at him, my eyes slicing into his own, "Apparently, he crossed jurisdictional lines, killed in different parts; out of Keystone and Central even. Rumor has it the son of a bitch stole the women's bras and jewelry, most probably as trophies..." I drifted off, then smirked. "But, I think he needs those to get off."

"H-how do you know that?"

Really, it was sad how he gave himself up so easily. I had hoped for a bit more fire coming from a man that had raped and murdered so many women. But, I shouldn't have hoped for so much. These kinds were always disappointing whenever it came to a confrontation.

"You know, the real reason police caught on was because of his short cooling off period. Only a week at most between each kill." I started to walk around his desk and towards him, reveling in the fear that was now clear in his eyes. "It's actually disappointing, Mr. James. You're a teacher, you should know better than to keep your instruments in your car. There are people like me out there." My voice grew darker and lower, then I pulled out the knife he had kept in his car.

Terrified eyes widened. A shivering body tensed. And the man looked as if he had been ready to bolt. But I moved quicker than him and, in the blink of an eye, I had his knife held up against his neck.

It took him a few seconds, but eventually the man raised his hands up, "Now, Wallace, don't do anything you might regret."

I cocked my head to the side, and asked, "Do you regret what you did?"

"Yes! I didn't mean to!" He gasped, yet there was no sign of remorse in his face.

The tears in his eyes weren't regretful ones. They were angered ones.

I shrugged and lowered the knife, taking a step back. "Something funny actually, what you just said. 'You didn't mean to'... Once, I would have believed. Maybe even twice. But you just kept on killing. And those weren't accidents."

Before he could even try and squeal his way out of this predicament, Mr. James found himself with his knife lodged into his shoulder.

A scream that might have been described by others as blood curdling escaped his lips, making my whole body warm up.

Here came the fun part.

Stalking targets was always fun. Finding out every little detail about their lives gave me the very sense of power they felt when they pulled these stunts. But, quite frankly, being patient had never been one of my strong points. I much preferred action. So I loved the act of killing much more than the act of preparing.

The man was gasping out in short breaths, face red with tears staining his cheeks. Pity. Some people just weren't made for pain.

"Psycho's got your tongue?" I asked innocently as I crouched down beside him, then pulled the knife out of his shoulder as harshly as I could.

He screamed once more and this time I smiled broadly. "Now, now, Mr. James, the fun's just beginning."

Suddenly he began to breathe much harsher, eyes so wide they looked as if they would pop out of his skull. "How did you get that?"

I didn't answer him and instead observed the bloodied knife. Even in the darkness, I could see the liquid oozing down the blade and towards the hilt. "I'm surprised you thought you could keep your secret for so long. And quite frankly, I'm disappointed in you." I lowered the knife to wipe it off on his shirt, causing him to flinch and try to move away from it. "You've got a pretty bad track record with the females of this school... It was only a matter of time before someone figured out you weren't quite right in the head."

"You know-"

"You're right." I interrupted him, smirking down at him as he glared up at me, "you're exactly like the women you killed."

He was stunned and silent for a second. Then he shouted out, "I'm nothing like those whores!"

"Shut up!" I slapped him with my left hand and sneered down at him. He stared wide-eyed at me, but wisely chose to keep quiet. "See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?" I asked him with amusement dripping off of my ever word. "Now, you say you're not. But look where you are. At the mercy of someone supposedly weaker than you."

He glared up at me, undoubtedly insulted, and tried to push me off. But that wasn't a very wise move because I was a thousand times faster than him. My left hand was on his neck before he had even tried to move an inch. "How does that feel?" I hissed, "How does it feel to have your life slowly fade away as a mad man wills it to go?"

For a few seconds, he spluttered. But I decided to give him some time- as I still choked him, of course- because I hated when targets didn't speak up for themselves.

When he didn't answer, I lifted his head up and smashed it against the floor. The tile cracked beneath the violent force. "Answer me, you worthless son of a bitch!"

He spluttered uncontrollably, causing a sick smile to form on my lips. "Isn't this what you did? Aside from raping them repeatedly, of course." He gasped and his hands finally raised up to claw at mine, trying to fight me off.

I hated when my targets were spineless rats. It sickened me to think that people like these had once thought themselves on top, only to let go of those grandiose notions when the going got tough.

Slowly, I leaned down over his body so my lips were right beside his ear. The puffs of air he was struggling to get tickled my own ear, causing a pleased shiver to travel down my spine. "It's because of people like you I'm not afraid to act." I whispered right against him, then proceeded to stab him repeatedly.

Blood got everywhere. My clothes were splattered with it by the time I was finished, but I didn't mind. It was about time I got rid of these old things, anyway.

He screamed and gasped and pleaded. By my stabs never became weaker. If anything, his cries for mercy spurned me on, begged me to hurt him worse so he could feel what he had done to those women.

After the tenth stab, I got up and made to walk out, leaving him to die in his own blood. His wounds were enough to cause death, but it wouldn't be immediate. He'd choke on the blood now filling his lungs before he bled out.

There was no witty final comment. I'd already said everything I had wanted and there was no need to ruin the symphony that was his choked gasps. I threw his knife onto his body, offered him a cocky smile and a jaunty wave, then left the school to speed back to my house.

Once there, I rushed up to my room and towards my bathroom to take off my clothes. After I'd done that, I took a shower and got all of the blood off of me. With all of that over with, I made my way towards the furnace in the basement, opened it, and threw my bloodied clothes inside of it. With the heat turned up, those would be nothing but ashes by the time the police came knocking tomorrow morning.

As I walked up the stairs and towards my living room, I hummed simple tune to myself. Then I threw myself onto my sofa and turned on the television, settling in to wait for my parents to come back.

Today was their 'date' night. A night in which they got rid of me and forgot about the shitholes their lives had become. '

There was no doubt about the sheriff knocking on our door tomorrow morning to ask me about any information I would have about my deceased school teacher. I had been the last student to leave his office; of course there would be questions. But I was prepared to answer any and all questions, more than accustomed to fooling law enforcement.

Having Barry Allen as an uncle had helped prepare me for this part of my job.

..~..~..

There have been a few things about this story that have always bothered me. But I never got around to fixing them until now because... Well... Inspiration. I want to post the sequel. But I felt like I needed to fix this story up first before I did that.

Some things will be changed. Some things will stay the same. I can't say with complete certainty just what will be different, but I can assure you of one thing: The chapters will be a hell of a lot longer than before. I can't stop myself from trying to make everything perfect, although I usually fail at this.

So, please remember to review and tell me what you think about this whole situation.