"We need to check out the papers a bit more," Robin ordered. An easier clue for the Titans to find would have been an advertisement on the television. It was a rare occurrence for Beast Boy to read the newspaper and if he hadn't, the clue would have gone unnoticed completely. "But we must sleep and regain our energy. I'll set the alarms to wake us up at dawn so we can crack to it."
Thus, the Titans left the newspaper sitting in the middle of the sofa, waiting for their researching extravaganza that would take place in the morning.
One might think that a newspaper business might have a little more security. Any place of business should have some security. It would be rather odd to see a stranger simply waltz in and do whatever he likes. The only explanation to this puzzle is that whomever wanted to publish these bizarre stories must know somebody inside. Either 'know' or have the ability to manipulate. Which would Slade go for?
Surprisingly enough, this man has connections.
Hynden's Watches. A simple store or does it hide a meeting place for villains?
The pictures were, of course, taken by Steven Wilkes and the article itself was, undoubtedly, written by Darren Smith.
Beside the article lay a picture of the outstanding, highly recommended watch shop. Even printed on bad quality paper, this simple watch shop looked magnificent. However, the funny thing was that this shop, despite its humble aesthetics, was popular amongst the wealthy.
Thus, to write a paper about it would gain a lot of attention. To even accuse it of hiding villains was practically blasphemy. The uproar alone would grab the Titans' attention. Perfect.
The article, to put it bluntly, focused only on the accusation and the unfortunate fact that the Titans had passed it during their chase for Slade. Yet another 'pointless' article, perhaps.
"Is there anything suspicious in there, Cyborg?" Robin leaned over his team-mate's shoulder, stealing a glance at the provocative article.
Other than the accusations of the very famous shop and the random mention of their names, "No."
"Excuse me," Starfire invited herself into the conversation, causing both Cyborg and Robin to look up from the newspaper and to her. "Pardon me for my presumptions, but why would a national paper of the news focus on a local shop? The accusations aren't enough to warrant an article, are they?"
The best thing about Starfire was that she looked at things from a different perspective. An alien's point of view, quite literally. She brought things out of context and demanded them to be questioned.
"Starfire's right," Robin concurred. "Cyborg, can you do more research on this piece?"
Giving a nod, Cyborg folded the newspaper up and tucked it underneath his arm in order to take it to his room for studying. It was a long shot, but a clue was a clue, even if it was tiny.
"Does this mean I don't get to read the comics today?"
For his immature question, Beast Boy merely received the group's unimpressed glares.
Raven stared at the floor in desperate concentration. The tiles were grubby and ready for a makeover, preferably not tiles. A few dead insects, poisoned by a factory's powder designed for such a kill, decorated the old floor, like raisins in a cake. But the floor wasn't what interested Raven. She merely had to keep her head down and focus.
What Raven had was the superb ability to transport herself, whenever and wherever she chose. It was a simple task, easier than breathing one could say, to get herself down from the top of the Titans' Tower to the ground floor in less than a second. But then, if it was that easy, why on Earth couldn't she do it now?
Slade was busy staring into the screen of his computer. It was a rather large computer, to say the least. It was the height of three men, and the width of three large elephants. Compensation, perhaps?
Although they were very far apart from each other, despite being in the same room, Raven's voice was carried beautifully across the room. The acoustics of the room were perfect for such a sound.
"Why can't I use my powers?" The young woman demanded. Contrary to what one might presume, Raven wasn't as angry as she should have been. Her hood concealed most of her face, but it was easy to tell she had her emotions under control. The perfect attitude to control her powers, but then why couldn't she do so?
Slade took his time in replying. This was probably the most irritating thing about him. Not the fact that he had kidnapped her or somehow taken her powers away, but taking his sweet time to speak. Raven hated that.
"If you're not going to answer me -."
"One problem you have, Raven," Slade bellowed. His voice was so strong it could have made the walls vibrate. "Is that you always ask questions. Could it not be possible that it is your own fault your powers aren't working? Could it not be completely obvious that you are inept?"
Such a slap in the face. "My powers worked fine yesterday!"
But Slade merely grinned and entwined his fingers behind his back. It was this action that made Raven debate on whether Slade had manipulated the room in order for her powers to be defective. If Slade wanted something, he got it. It wouldn't be too hard for him to get away with something like that.
"That may be so," Slade replied coyly. "But that doesn't mean -."
But Slade's patronising was cut off suddenly by a loud, harsh cry. The very sound pierced through Raven's nerves.