It wasn't really that surprising; building interiors in smoking shambles, roads torn to shreds and lampposts in disarray, to say nothing of the unreasonable number of witnesses and video evidence. Of course pursuit of a villain was one thing, fights between friends, another, but for a brawl to have tumbled into the city itself, where it had been readily obvious to even the most thickheaded fool that there was some sort of in-fighting occurring between the heroes? Youtube alone had enough material to run a minor documentary on the event, and that was to say nothing of the social media sphere: the tabloids had already begun an almost slanderous campaign of misinformation and deceit, and the only reason the Constable hadn't arrested the publication houses was because he was a fool that consistently stated that something wasn't libel if it held true, and the Chief was too busy trying to pacify the vocal minority that wanted the Titans under house arrest.

'Laws exist for a reason, and everyone has to be held accountable.' So the Constable said. So began another fiasco. Only reaction was a grimace, a frown. Left with a silent ball of hatred twisting around in the belly hours later, even as the boat slowed down to dock. Each step leaden. One leg actually is, a bit. Story for another day. Just another young and stupid kid making another stupid mistake; arresting hurt more than extraction. Nearly Two Decades later. Still married to the job, Juvenile Services. It was supposed to make a difference. Stop kids from making bad decisions. Now punishing young heroes. Figures.

At least he had stopped SWAT from being called in; god knows the damages that would've been done, the rumors that would've started. More and more oil upon the inferno that had already been conjured forth; someone, probably someone young, could've been injured or worse. What in the world had they been thinking? A squad wouldn't have been enough to arrest someone from this team, but perhaps a single person could succeed where a show of might would clearly fail. Still, the Constable was going to be livid when he found that he had been skipped over.

A small smile on a scarred face. A memory that'd warm him for days despite the hell his job would swiftly become. Remembering the job before dedicated heroes appeared hurts. Little reason to remember those nightmarish times. Men against monsters. Monsters victorious. Then more men against the same monster. Drowning it in bodies. Victory more painful than defeat. Bad days. Bad days. Now just lesser monsters and men. Still some nightmares. Moments where the hand shakily pours out libations for friends. Only the young could want the old days back. Knock against the metal. Forget the sadness and loss. Get out of the wet and cold. Focus on the job.

"Why in the world do they live so conspicuously?" Inspector Grant grunts under his breath, taking his hand away from the door and placing it under his armpit in the vain attempt at keeping it warm. "And getting something from the city'd be a hassle," he murmurs to himself, more to distract himself from the fact he could already feel a chill running down his spine; whether it was from the rain or some sort of instinct, however, he can hardly tell.

Don't answer the door. Don't. Be saving the city. Nurturing kittens. Cooking. Something productive. Don't let me further this miscarriage of justice. Be asleep. Please. Wait. Was that an explosion?

With not even the barest whisper of a creak, the door slid open a crack and a red-head with green eyes peeked through the opening. For the longest moment, Titan and Inspector simply stared at each other, uncertain of what needed to be said to move the situation forward.

Wasn't at scene? Don't remember her there much. The Alien. Flings plasma. Super strong. Capable of flight. Has slightly burnt hair as well. Singed face. Wait. That's not normal. That's not normal at all.

"Are you not supposed to be doing the selling of something?" the Red-Head finally asks, as the Inspector simply stared on in bewilderment. "You are the door to door man of selling, yes? It is commendable to doing your job in this weather, but I do not see how this is improving matters much." Another moment passed in silence as the Inspector tried to decode what on earth had just been said to him, before Starfire, in a sympathetic tone, asked, "Are you a Bow of Hoes? Are you in need of a drying instrument?"

Calm down. Collect. Did she just say hobo? Probably. I look like a hobo? Focus! Is there something I'm missing? Or is she just impossibly naïve? Or improbably perceptive? Put on your hat.

For just a moment, Inspector Grant's eyes glanced at his stitched-up coat, threadbare hat, and undeniably scuffed and muddied dark-blue shirt, before he finally managed to reply with, "Uhm," and place his hat back on.

Smooth as Ex-Lax. Idiot. Not that it matters much. Gods above, but she's strong. Am I hearing Video games? What's that whirring? Oh hells. There's the perp right that. Right next to the jolly blue giant. Except not so jolly. Losing? Focus. Lead into this carefully. Wait. She's saying something. Gathering them? Focus. Holy hell, that's dark. Wait. Why does the grey one have a Bindi? Doesn't that mean she's married? Or something? Hindu derived, regardless. Wait. There's the leader. Probably. Hopefully. Focus. Listen.

"—and that's why Mr. Bow of House Hoe is here," Starfire said, beaming at her friends, even as the Inspector raised an eyebrow in befuddlement; the reaction was not alone, however, as five human(ish?) eyes affixed him to the spot.

At least one just seems bored.

"Erm," Inspector Grant finally managed, after clearing his throat. He spent a moment opening his wallet and flipping it open to his badge before continuing, "I'm afraid I'm not quite what you think I am. I actually needed to talk to-" Green one's name? Beast something. Beast lad? No. Boy. "—Beast Boy for a moment. It's, uh, job related. Nothing serious, just needed to get some information if possible."

They will tear me limb from limb if he spends more than twenty four hours in custody. Metaphorically speaking. Probably. That's a hell of a glare the grey one is sporting. Well then. Time to either gamble big or go home.

"It is, of course, merely a request," the Inspector murmured after a moment, "and if problems should arise that requires your team, he will, of course, be free to leave. It is, again, merely a requested visit, something that we want but don't necessarily need."

Ah. Haven't felt this since the old days. Same gut-wrenching worry that someone with super strength will haul off with a tire-iron and disembowel a buddy. Or me. And that glare looks like it's capable of murder. Wait. All of the glares look like they're able to do that. Except the Perp. Confused? Figures. Think. Is that pizza on the counter? Focus. Wait. Teenagers. Perhaps greed will work? God damn. That smell is unholy. Is that tofu?

"Since this job is working in tandem with the police department," he felt his mouth saying before he could run the words through his brain, "There will, of course, be compensation for your time. Of the financial variety, in all likelihood."

There goes any chance of a bonus. And perhaps the job. Perhaps. If a conviction happens. Which won't. Too much heroism inspires votes of non-guilt. Why are we bothering with this fiasco? Oh. Everyone seems to be backing down. Except the Grey one. She looks livid. Delightful. Now I may have another lifetime enemy. I shall make room on my board. And invest in another bear-trap. Can't be too careful. Oh. Green one is ready to go. Time to leave. Oh. Grey one is gesturing at paper. My name? My name. There.

"You ready to go?" Inspector Grant asked Beast Boy, some concern leaking into his voice as he set the pen to the side; it was clear he took issue with the teen simply leaving the house in only his Titan uniform. A moment passed as Beast Boy glanced down at himself, grinned, and shifted into a bear; lazily, he trudged over to the boat and curled into a ball of fur.

I forgot to use a pseudonym instead. So much for 'Ethel Snake'. Well shit. If I get hexed I'm killing Jerry. Why is there a green bear? Oh. Hero boy. Changes into animals. Glad I remembered. This job alone is taking years off my life. Still. At least he'll be warm on the trip there. This better not become a recurring theme, though.