Chapter 3: Surveillance

A bit of mustard dripped out of the bottle and onto Starfire's chin. She dropped her odd pizza back onto her plate and smiled at her friends, not knowing that she was being watched. A man knelt on a nearby rooftop, looking through his binoculars and at the Titans. "Beautiful," he said, watching Starfire's breasts bounce up and down as she laughed heartily at something.

He had been in this position for the past 10 minutes, watching his prey and her friends eating their meal. Even he had to admit that it was getting boring. "Don't these people do anything other than eat?" he asked himself irritably. His question was answered almost immediately.

Suddenly, all the Titans stiffened. They stood, turned, and jumped right off the top of the building. Keeping his binoculars on him, he caught a glimpse of Raven. He settled on her butt and set his lenses on it. "I can't believe it," he thought, seeing how high her leotard rode on her legs, "these girls are practically begging to be raped. How can they go around in such skimpy outfits? Not that I'm complaining…"

He watched the team approach a squat little man in a leather jacket and immediately attack. Starfire shot a green starbolt at the man, hitting a light post that jumped in front of him and shattering it into a million pieces. "Shit," said the man with the binoculars, "I wouldn't want to end up in front of one of those."

As the stout little man was hit with an exploding disk, the rapist heard a piercing shout. "AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS!" shouted Raven, black energy flying from her hands. "Oooooh," said the rapist excitedly, "a verbal incantation. Maybe I'm going after the wrong girl. That's easy to stop." The energy connected with the stout man and knocked him to the ground.

"Well," said the rapist, "that was educational. Maybe I should rethink this whole situation."

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The surveillance on the Teen Titans had proven to be very fruitful, indeed for the rapist. It had given him a plan, as well as a rudimentary knowledge of how their powers worked. He also had a plan.

He peeked around a corner and watched a little brown haired girl skipping down the street. Smiling, he waited patiently to spring his trap. As the girl passed his alleyway, he shot his arms out and snatched her in mid-skip. Clapping his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, he held the girl close to himself. He inched sideways down the alleyway to the dead end. "Shhhhh," he crooned, "it's okay. I won't hurt you. Just be quiet and don't make a sound."

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and she obeyed him, her only movement being quivering from fear. "Now," said the rapist, "My name is Mr. Goodman. What's yours?"

"Jenny," squeaked the little girl quietly.

"Oh come now," said Mr. Goodman, slipping his hand down her pants, "I've told you that there's nothing to fear from me. There's no need to be afraid. Now how old are you?"

"Seven," said Jenny, calming down a bit.

"That's a good age," said Goodman, "I found that life is best at that young age. Now I don't want you to be afraid. I promise I won't hurt you in any way." It was a promise he intended to keep. He needed good strong bait for the fish he was trying to catch.