There will be more dialogue than action for a while, but things won't get too boring. Writing this is much, much more fun than studying, but the latter is currently a priority. Chapters will come when inspiration lines up with free time.

Chapter Three
"Unacceptable."

"Excuse me?"

"Would you prefer smaller words, detective?" Raven asked.

Remember, Carmen, the dentist has been harping on about how you grind your teeth.

"I would prefer an explanation. This is the fourth attorney you have turned down. We have very few brave souls in the city that do pro bono work. However rich you might be in your home, you have no money here to hire a big shot lawyer." Carmen tried to remember that it was the right thing to do. The demon had the right to a lawyer, even if she was more irritating than the mayor's wife at a banquet.

"He might be able to argue his way out of a paper bag if a child had written the speech for him." Raven deigned to read the emotions Carmen was very loudly admitting. Condescension was an easy way to drive the detective crazy.

"Would you prefer to represent yourself at your hearing?" She was having a long day, and she was only halfway through.

"If I get a hearing." Raven's cool tone added more levels of frustration. "I thought I was being kept as an enemy combatant. You can't afford to put me at trial. There are far too many variables in a court. Fifteen at the very least would not be in uniform."

"Judge, jury, and lawyers," Carmen guessed.

"You do know that this won't be enough when my father comes for me."

"You've mentioned that."

Raven smiled prettily, showing sharp teeth to best advantage. "I hope for your sakes that you come to your senses by then. My father has better things to do with his time than vaporize police stations."

"Why hasn't he come already, if you'll satisfy a detective's curiosity?"

"Organizing an army takes time. I hope you don't think we would come alone if we meant dire business. The first visit was meant to size up just how much of a response we could draw. This," she said, nodding graciously at the holding cell, "was not planned, but it is a unique opportunity to see just how much dysfunction is present in your justice system. From what I have seen, I wonder if any criminals at all make it through trials. Your lawyers are hopeless."

"Do you have your own?"

Raven fixed her gaze on the detective. Carmen was an interesting woman, and one of very few earth dwellers not scared away after two visits. "Perhaps. If I hear from one of my people, I will let you know."

"Your people," Carmen said, begrudgingly amused. The demon had a very good grasp of popular language. "Of course you would have people. Who are they, the bar association?"

"That would be telling," Raven said, as close to happy as she would get in such circumstances. So few people could hope to keep pace in battles with words. "When I hear word, I will be sure that they let you know."

"Carmen." The voice from the receiver was distorted. Their radios weren't the best to begin with. Putting the words through a few magical shields didn't help. "Titans are in."

"Wonderful." Raven's flat voice suggested the visit was anything but. "I hope that they have realized I don't play nice? No one else understands that, detective," she said, feigning plaintiveness.

"Tell me something good, and then I can guarantee they won't transfer someone else in for me," Carmen said.

"Something for something?"

"A trade," Carmen agreed.

"What's in it for me? You might understand that I laugh at threats, but that's not worth what I know," Raven said. "You tell me what you want to know. I'll tell you what I want in exchange."

"That is not how interrogations work."

"I've been here for three days. You haven't had any progress, I'm willing to bet a few minutes of playing nice that the feds are breathing down your neck about not getting any information."

Indolent, sarcastic, uppity, clever little bitch of a demon. Not many hard-timers they had through the all-metal rooms held up half as well. Carmen was begrudgingly impressed, even when she just wanted answers. "Fine. We'll work something out later. The feds aren't breathing down my neck, however. My boss is getting the worst of that."

"Do you want me to play nice for a few minutes?"

Carmen smiled at the overdramatic expression. The 'bad cops' had all left the room before they hit the girl. The demon didn't respond to intimidation.

"Try not to be too vicious. You know teenage boys have delicate egos." The Titans had made progress in the first and second days before hitting a plateau. The third wasn't sounding any more promising.

"If a few words from a complete stranger can upset their self-esteem, they don't deserve egos," Raven said. She glanced at the door. It was at a horrible angle, but she could watch without being terribly obvious. She could focus her gaze without pupils giving away the direction. Carmen said something- more I'm-not-so-bad comments meant to help Raven relax. The cop didn't like her, exactly, but they had a mutual understanding after three days. Raven still didn't like the detective, of course.

That would be the day. She watched, and even craned her neck forward when the door was open to see- another door. The room didn't lead directly to a corridor. The police weren't as moronic as she had thought.

Raven scowled, just as the first Titan came in sight.

"Смазанные жиром Волосы," she said in greeting. If she sounded less than enthusiastic, it was because watching water evaporate was more intriguing than the leader of the city's pet team.

"You could just call me Robin."

"That would not fit you half as well," she protested with feigned friendliness. Her smile glinted false, and the full set of fangs made even the green man wary. "What are you here for today?" she asked.

"You know what we're here for," Robin said.

He was the leader for the reason. Leaders said the most and meant the least. "I'm a lazy telepath," she lied glibly. She had embellished on just how many powers she did have, and could read emotions well enough to guess thoughts. "Why don't you all play cops and tell me what I want to hear? Starfire can be the good cop, and everyone else can pretend they're tough."

"That is fine," Starfire said. "I do not believe that I would make an excellent cop, but I believe my part requires being nice."

"We're not bad people."

She ignored the emotions in Beast Boy's words. He and Starfire both gave off the same bright emotions, but Starfire's felt more honest. "Name the crime I committed, then. Self-defense?"

"You were destroying the city."

Three days, and Raven could recognize the leader's crime-is-wrong voice. "I defended myself."

"You aided and abetted in felony assault and destruction."

"There is no such crime as felony destruction." A blithe tone irritated Robin the fastest. Condescension was met with a crooked smirk, but not caring at all about laws hit something deeper. "You all know a jury would never convict me. If there was evidence enough to put me to trial, I would walk."

"I do not know the legal system," Starfire intervened. "Perhaps we could discuss other matters. If you were not destroying the city, Raven, why were you here?"

"Chaos, panic, destruction- the usual." Raven wouldn't let the alien trick her again. They knew more than enough.

"You and your father wished to work together for what purpose? Just mischief?"

"World domination, what else?" Sarcasm was the easiest, especially when it disguised the truth.

"Ever consider finding a new hobby, Raven?" Cyborg asked. "In our experience, plots to take over the world never work."

"Have not worked yet," Raven corrected.

"In plots like those, someone working for the takeover faction usually figures out that there's a better option out there," Cyborg said.

Raven's eyes narrowed. "You are not very subtle, Яркий Человек." She had named all of them in her language. They didn't need to know that most names were not at all derogatory. They were warriors, and she could respect them. Any lingering animosity towards their leader was a last remnant of their fight, and "Greased Hair" did fit Robin.

"I never said I was, Raven." Cyborg didn't like subtleties.

She was going to say something when four communicators rang.

"Trouble," Robin said, flipping open the screen to see details. "Two blocks south, at the museum," he continued as they were leaving.

"HIVE again?" Cyborg didn't need to open a communicator. "Usually they wait for night. Maybe they-"

The door cut away the rest of the conversation.

"You know, Raven, we could save all kinds of fuss for everyone, paperwork for the department, and overtime for me if you'd just tell us what's going on," Carmen said wearily. Joe had her staying late- again- so they could start to figure out the mess with Scath. They had already tried all databases in the country, so they were going international.

Carmen had told him that she spoke Mexican-influenced street Spanish, but that didn't matter. She was the contact for countries that spoke Portuguese, too, for crying out loud before beating the chief over the head with her translation guide. Portuguese was not the same as Spanish, thank you very much.

"Just how much overtime are you putting in? You look dead on your feet." Raven glowered when Carmen looked surprised. "Don't take that to heart, detective. You may be less annoying than others, but that means very little."

Carmen smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it," she lied. Raven wasn't as bad as she liked to pretend. "As for overtime, I'm spending fourteen hours at the station on a good day. I could put in less time if you'd give me a few details."

"How tempting."

"Can't wait, huh? Speaking of waiting, the bed in the corner is perfectly nice. Is floating in the air over it a preference?" Carmen had heard of people who slept sitting up, but sleeping in midair was new.

They thought she slept, at least. It was hard to tell.

"Habit," Raven said.

Carmen tapped a finger against her arm as she thought. Joe had been in for breakfast, she and the Titans had just had lunch with Raven two hours ago, and she had no idea why Raven was speaking in fragments. Carmen distracted herself by consulting a schedule tucked in her pocket. Nothing.

Carmen traced the next day's column with her finger. Joe had just put the request through. She would have a ridiculous amount of overtime and no sleep at all, if this kept up.

There.

She had thought something was different. Raven was rubbing at the base of her skull, near the spine. If that wasn't a sign of a headache, Carmen didn't keep Excedrin in her patrol car.

"Headache?" Carmen asked sympathetically. She liked problems that could be dealt with.

"I need to meditate," Raven said absently, before looking at Carmen sharply.

Carmen wasn't supposed to know that, apparently. She understood the logic behind that. Raven didn't need much. From what she knew, needing something was weakness; weakness was to be avoided at all costs.

"Not a bad idea." Carmen folded her schedule again. "Another lawyer might come in today. Could you please not make this one cry? I don't like lawyers, and I had to hide the last poor soul in my office while he recuperated."

"The human psyche- such a fragile thing."

"Demons are so much better?" Carmen didn't expect an answer.

"Not at all."

The expression said more than Raven had meant to, Carmen guessed. She tapped the digital clock on the tabletop instead of commenting. "Dinner is scheduled for seven. Is that enough time?"

"Seven thirty would be better."

"Seven thirty it is," Carmen said.

Joe could grouch all he liked. Small details were making all the difference, and he knew it as well as she did. Their standard protocols wouldn't work.

Speak of the devil- Joe was there to greet her when she stepped into the station's hallway. "Carmen, we found something on the lawyer who scheduled a visit. Huang has the lawyer's business card."

"I'll assume it's not tax fraud."

Joe shook his head. "There was a cute little picture in the upper left corner, next to a dividing line. Dark red metallic stripe with a strange-looking S at the edge."

"Scath."

"Two for two, Carmen. If you can get the next one- who knows. Can we nominate cops for sainthood?"

"Pull me off spokeswoman and I'll be happy," Carmen said. "What's the third, out of curiosity?"

"Where the hell did Nicole Tanis see this mark? I have two in research getting me her complete history, from labor complications to colic to tonsils to the last time she had a physical. Feds are a damned nuisance, but they can tell me what library books the woman checked out. It's too optimistic to think she read the symbol in some old book, but we'll know something about this woman."

Carmen bit her lip, hard, as she thought. Something about this fit too neatly. "I'm on it, Joe- and I do mean it. Get me off spokeswoman. I have enough on my plate without the reporters."

"Williams isn't so bad, is he?"

Joe backed off. The look Carmen gave him could melt the brass off his badge. "Got it. New spokesman for the department." He had the badge that said chief, but he wasn't going to win some fights.

Speaking of fights he wasn't going to win…

Joe looked over his office. He could rearrange things, he supposed. The cardboard box full of plaques could go on the walls. He didn't like them, but taking them home would send the wrong message- so they stayed in the box. One box wouldn't make the office a mess. Eight and an extra file cabinet managed very nicely.

"Nothing on the business card front so far?"

"Not yet, Sophie," he said. "Carmen was just coming out of the holding cell. She's on it."

"She's going home by ten," Sophie promised. "I don't care if we need her here. She needs to get her rest. She has a shift tomorrow starting at eight. I want her to get enough sleep. If nothing else- you'll save money."

"Overtime?"

"Worse. The station's coffee supply is running on fumes." Sophie rescued two files from a precarious position at the edge of his desk. Filing wasn't part of Sophie's job description. It was one of those unofficial duties that everyone at the station helped with. Joe was known for many things. Organization was not one of them, as shown by the boxes he had yet to unpack.

"You've had the job for three months," she chided, gently kicking a box for emphasis as she put the files away. "When are all your pretty shiny things going on the wall?"

"It'd be more work for the janitors."

"Nice try, Joe. The janitors have the dusting to do now, which leads to sweeping." She glanced at the papers on his desk. Someone else must have helped him out today. "I e-mailed my aunt about Scath, and forwarded her reply to you."

"Sophie-"

"Police business is to stay in the station, I know, but she's seen it before. She lives in Gotham. She can get a final answer to you in a couple days. My aunt has a mind like a steel trap with a slow spring." Sophie smiled when Joe sighed. "We've been over it before, Joe. Use all the resources you have." She paused at the doorway. "I'll let you know if anything comes up."

Sophie checked in with several people about the lawyer problem before walking to her office on autopilot. If she ran by the store tonight, she could get enough supplies for the coffee room to last another two days. That was another job that wasn't officially in the records. She would need more coffee, another pack of tea, two of the green, probably another non-dairy creamer, and some of that lemonade mix as a treat. It would be June in just a week.

Before she could register the woman standing outside her office, the stranger spoke.

"Ms. Wells? I-"

"Sophie," she interrupted automatically. Formalities were boring. Sophie Wells was a celebrated paper-pusher. Chasing the chief of police and various lawyers with paperwork took cunning, skill, bribery, and extortion. Without the small excitements, she would be bored.

"Sophie. The officer at the front of the building said to speak to you about getting an appointment with the chief of police."

Speak to her? Sophie wasn't a secretary.

"What's the occasion?" Sophie looked the woman over. Tall, dark hair, pretty eyes. Foundation only obscured the shadows below her eyes. She stood still, unlike most people who wanted to speak with the chief, and carried herself well.

"I may have information about the demon in custody. All I want is two minutes. If I'm wrong, I'll be gone, but I saw a picture on the news. I think I know her."

Her first impression was of a nice woman, too calm to be the usual fanatic. Joe would get grouchy if there was another false lead, but she was in charge of his coffee supply. If he took it out on Jenkins, Carmen would thank her. If he took it out on Carmen, Sophie would have a floorshow. "One minute, please."

She walked back to his office.

"Anything from Davis and Huang?"

"Not yet, but a woman claims she knows the demon. She just wants two minutes," Sophie said.

"Send her in." Security was used to the crocks, by now. Demons brought them out in droves. The lady could be a fraud, but she could be the real deal.

"Take a seat," he said when the woman glanced into his office.

"I'm not completely sure I know the demon, sir. It's been years."

"Tell me about the demon you do know, then."

"Her name is Raven. She will be sixteen in a week and five days, on June 4th, and has a scar on her left arm just above the elbow. When her demon side isn't strong, she has two eyes with purple irises."

Most of that checked out. He didn't know about the scar, but that would be easy enough to check- presumably. "Where and when did you know her?"

"Azarath. She was barely three when she was kidnapped." She had been looking at him, confident enough to make eye contact, but her eyes dropped to her hands. Long fingers, no calluses, no jewelry, no sign of a ring on the left ring finger. "I would like to speak with her."

"No civilians, ma'am," Joe said, frowning. None of the usual tells for a lie. If she was a reporter, the stage was missing an actress. "If there was going to be an exception, I would need some information. I'm Joe Caldwell."

He held out his hand. She shook it. Her slender fingers had a strong grip.

"Angela Roth, of Azarath and Gotham. I am her mother."