I want to update this, but you all haven't given me a chance… either that or you can't log on like I couldn't a few days ago. Typing on my Mum's CPU and it's missing the O and I keys, so this is much harder then it looks. So yeah, the deaths below really are ways to die, so don't attempt them. I refuse to be responsible for stupid people who didn't listen to me. Oh well, breaking the 4th wall and babysitting at the same time isn't an easy job.

He wrapped his arms tight around her, cherishing each breath she took. He thanked the Lord above that she hadn't died. She was his whole world, his everything. If she had died, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. He pressed his lips against the top of her head and let his eyes fall shut. Right now, it was just him and her. The rest of the world was pointless to him at the moment.

"I love you," he breathed softly into her unconscious ears.

A ghost of a smile crossed her-

"I'm sure that this may have been happening in another story, but not this one and definitely not this chapter. Right now, you can ditch all ideas of romance because this chapter won't have a drop of it. So, enjoy the paragraph and two lines while you can. Thanks!" –FrankandJoe3

The man struggled against the tight chains that bound him to the office chair, his short brown hair and five o'clock shadow blood stained and his fingertips numb.

"Let me go!" Greg Weisman screamed furiously, looking this way and that for his abductor.

A maniacal giggle rang through the room before silence set over one of the two creators of Young Justice. Greg growled gently, looking at the chains. He was doomed.

"You have the wrong people! We're just the creators; we don't necessarily have a say in the show!" he insisted, desperate to leave.

"No point in arguing Mr. Weisman. After we're done with Mr. Vietti, we'll answer your questions," a gentle voice insisted.

Greg gritted his teeth and looked for a possible escape. He looked trapped on all sides though. He still held tight to his little hope of rescue. That little ray of hope was shattered when he heard Brandon give off an agonizing scream that chilled him to the bone. He closed his eyes tight and bit his lip.

My God, I won't survive this he thought to himself with a shiver.

He tried to fight against the chains with one last and final effort. He was no Superboy though, and that was apparent. He collapsed weakly within himself and turned his gaze to the cold concrete floors.

This is ridiculous! You created superheroes for God's sake! What would they do? Well, I'm not one, but… uh, survey the scene. My Kaldur attempt failed with reasoning and Superboy's brute strength failed me, but Robin's genius may save me yet!

He glanced about the room and was grimly reminded of a Saw movie. It was a square concrete room, with no windows or doors. There was a plain black TV screen across the room in front of him, and all of the light in the room, no matter how scarce it was, came from the old fashioned single bulb above his head that revealed a small jail cell in the corner, completely random with no purpose as far as he was concerned.

There's no way out? So how do I get out of here? Let alone, how did I get in here? Did they just build the wall around me? No, it looks to old. Even if they did, I'd still need the mirror to see what I saw, and a table to cut in half; the two halves would make a hole and I could escape, but I have neither a mirror nor a table, I have no chance…

Then he heard it. It was a soft and feint explosion, but it sounded close. Greg craned his neck to see what the cause was, only to see a woman standing in the jail cell. She wore a super short skirt and a low cut white and black striped outfit and wore a nurse's hat that was striped in the same fashion. Her short black hair fell carefully down to her shoulders, but barely so. Her bright blue eyes sparkled.

"I'm innocent! I didn't do anything wrong officer! I can't be in here! My family would be ever so angry with me if they found out! I'd do anything to get out," the woman batted her eyelashes, pouting gently.

She seemed to be in her early twenties and was well figured, but Greg wasn't interested.

"I'm not the officer lady," he muttered.

She giggled gently, gripping the bars of the jail gently. Then, she exploded. Greg nearly jumped out of his skin as he let out a cry of surprise.

She just blew up! That didn't seem to register in his head.

He felt a hand tap his shoulder and his head spun to see the source. A business woman stood in front of him with a beige blazer and a skirt that fell to her knees. She wore thick nerdy glasses and had her hair up in a bun. Her hands were clasped in front of her calmly.

"Are you ready to begin?"

Greg's eyes swelled. "B-begin?"

"Yes, the interrogation. Your lawyer seems to be late and it's too late to request a new one, so let me present you with what you'll have to face if you don't answer my questions."

She pulled a handheld small remote from the air and clicked it twice. The screen shot on and security footage showed up of an older looking woman.

"This is- er, sorry, was Madalaine Johnson, a woman who disobeyed us. So we gave her the 'Botox Treatment'."

She clicked a button and it showed a split screen with three sections, each one showing the woman getting yellow liquid injected into her face like Botox would be. In the newer footage, the woman's face looked smooth around the middle, but the edges were torn and wrinklier then ever.

"We didn't inject Botox into her face, we injected corn oil. It does lift the skin, but it fuses with the blood and goes to the organs and well…"

She clicked a button and it showed Ms. Johnson, obviously dead, blood pouring from the huge tears in her forehead, cheeks and lips. Greg gasped, horrified. The woman hid a smile as she clicked again. The footage went to a boy in his late twenties with chains around his ankles.

"This was Jackson Thomas. He disobeyed a direct order. So I offered to let him kill his abductor."

She clicked again and it showed Jackson taking an old fashioned pistol into his hands, confused. He pointed it at an eight year old girl standing at least ten feet from him. She wore a little pink dress, her hair typed up in a ponytail by a little pink ribbon. She had a sweet and innocent smile on her face, seeming to be completely oblivious to the gun.

"His abductor was just a child?" Greg asked in doubt.

The woman nodded, "We've trained the children well. Anyway, Jackson made the mistake of listening to us."

Jackson pulled the trigger, only for the gun to explode, taking his hand with it. He let out a silent scream as blood poured from the artery he had just cut from the gun fragments. He collapsed within seconds. The little girl put a hand to her mouth and seemed to laugh before the tape was frozen.

"We intentionally put too much gun powder in the pistol before arming it. When he fire, he ignited the excess gunpowder and died as a result."

Greg shivered, his mouth frozen in shock.

Monsters… he thought in horror.

"I'll show you one last one, just to show how cruel our punishments can be," the woman offered him a cynical smile.

She clicked again. The screen showed an African American man, in his late thirties with short black hair and a slight beard to match.

"This is Aaron Taylor. We offered him wine or water. He selected wine. He had disobeyed us by drinking on the job, so he should've known."

She clicked the remote again. It showed Aaron taking the clear bottle of 'wine' to his lips. He nearly choked it up and dropped the bottle. It shattered across the floor silently. The man let out a cry before he began stumbling around, leaning against the wall for support. He tore at his shirt, but it was no use for he collapsed the next second. The woman paused the footage and turned off the TV.

"Aaron drank liquid cocaine and kerosene. His body was killed off fast, but not immediately."

Greg felt his heart hammer fast in his chest.

I'm so dead… he thought in a panic.

"So, I hope you'll answer my questions later. For now, I'll let you think it over."

She offered him a kind smile and exploded, turning into a 12 year old girl with messy black hair, jeans and an average t-shirt. As she walked toward the concrete wall, she glanced at her fingertips, a grin on her lips. She had no fingerprints, just blank nubs for fingers. She had been like that ever since she could remember, thanks to good ole' sulpheric acid.

"Try tracking that Dicky boy," she remarked to herself. "I'm untraceable."

XxXxX

"Batman, I'm fine!" Robin insisted, feeling uncomfortable from all of the awkward questions.

Batman looked at Robin, shadowed eyes meeting shades.

"You are going to be fingerprinted," he insisted for the final time.

Robin groaned.

"But Batman…" he whined. "The others are here and she touched my face and other skin parts that I'd rather not have to strip for you to search for!"

Batman was happy for his mask to hide the slight blush at the mention.

"Just close your eyes and take off your hoodie, computer and gloves. Glasses off too because you said she touched those. Don't open your eyes. Breathe through the-," Batman began to instruct, but Robin was ready.

His hoodie was on the ground, his gloves and computer on top. In his hands, he had his utility belt and he slipped a small silver tube from a pocket. He slipped it into his mouth and looked up at Batman expectantly. Batman nodded, glad that he could follow orders. Batman had fingerprinted human bodies before, but never live ones. This was new to him, but he had faith in Robin. Robin hopped on the counter and slipped his sunglasses from his eyes, carefully handing them off to Batman. He angled his arms so they could be hit and he closed his eyes tight. He watched slowly as the glass covered him, trapping him in the small prison.

Batman frowned gently at the brief thought of anything going wrong, but he shook it off and switched the machine on, grateful that Richard shaved his arms regularly. He watched Richard adjust his mouth and he seemed to be breathing regularly through his mouth, his chest rising and falling gently. Batman took a seat and watched anxiously as the substances started to settle on his sidekick's exposed skin. He would figure out who this woman was. She was obviously with superpowers, being able to change her appearance at command and having telepathic powers. He'd have to look her up later.

He set Richard's shades carefully in a box similar to the one that Richard was in, next to the small pink ribbon. For all he knew, the person could've been a cross-dressing super powered person, but Kid Flash and Robin both insisted, sounding somewhat as if they were praying, that it was a woman who seemed to change with her mood. That still left a lot of things and people to look into. Batman set a hand to his mask.

It's sad when hearing that a person exploded, only to have someone else in their place, isn't unusual to you at all… he thought to himself, walking back over to Richard.

Richard's eyes were dancing beneath their lids and his fingers were fidgeting anxiously. He hated it, obviously, but he hated the thought of the disappointment that would be shown when he complained about it. Some days, it's just better to suffer then nothing at all.

See, I'm keeping you hinted on both sides, hers and Dicky boy's. Review if you want, 'cause this took a lot of effort, seeing that my mother's computer is missing the I and O keys… ):

-FrankandJoe3