CHAPTER TEN – It's Chaos Out There

Time: 9:03:03 a.m.

Taking more time in consuming the coffee that Chloe had made, Robin took careful sips instead of the large mouthfuls. The searing liquid travelling down his throat and settling in his stomach soothed the uneasiness that he felt after his heated altercation with Cyborg.

Chloe had reached the room the moment Robin exploded at Cyborg after he questioned the Boy Wonder's decision to not be at Starfire's side after her accident. After Robin had ended the transmission, Chloe hurriedly placed the coffee cup on the table which Robin sat at, created an excuse that she had some paperwork that needed to be completed but to come and find her if he needed anything else. She practically flew out of the room before the Titan had a chance to thank her for the drink or the offer.

No matter how hard he tried to force Cyborg's words out of his mind, they just stuck like glue. What really vexed him was that his robotic friend actually had the audacity to doubt his (Robin's) concern about Starfire . . .

'. . . Your ego, your selfishness, your intent on finding a perpetrator is more important than your girlfriend? . . .'

'. . . If Starfire means so much to you, then why are you not at her side? . . .'

Those words hung in Robin's head, almost taunting him, antagonizing him, provoking him to snap again and drive his fist through the wall.

Scathingly, Robin growled beneath his breath, "How dare he make the assumption that I don't care for Starfire? Who the hell does he think he is? He has absolutely no idea . . . no idea what-so-fucking-ever, just how much Starfire means to me. He doesn't even know that today, I . . ."

He froze in mid-sentence. He had just reminded himself of what today was. It was the day. The day that he had been planning for weeks. He had everything mapped out . . . but it had been ruined. All of last night, even as he slept with the Tamaranian huddled up next to him, his thoughts repeated everything that was supposed to happen to day, everything that he was going to say, the build-up to it . . .

Ruined.

Robin, at first, did not realise the tears that were forming underneath his mask, threatening to fall from his eyes and down his cheeks.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Today was supposed to be perfect. Today was supposed to be special. But now . . . now . . .

"Robin . . . Robin . . . Robin, wake up"

The muffled voice of a woman filled Robin's ears. He snapped out of his depression and saw through tear filled eyes – thankfully, none had escaped from his mask – Chloe was back at the door, looking as though she was very eager to leave the precinct.

"Huh . . . sorry Chloe. What's wrong?"

"I said that we've received a call from Jump City Central Park. Aparently, a female called the station with a report saying that she discovered a young female lying in a pool of blood with a stab wound in her stomach"

Robin was practically in a state of severe disbelief. This was now the fourth death reported within the last five hours . . . Just what the hell is going on? And who the hell is doing this?

Chloe continued, "I thought that you may be interested in tagging along. Having you help will for sure be incredibly useful to us"

Well, no matter how many times I go through the criminal records, I'm still coming up with a blank slate, so . . . "Sure thing, I can help"

Neglecting to finish the remainder of the coffee or the bagel that showed one indentation of a bite mark, Robin sprung out of his seat, joined Chloe and began the walk along the hallways. Pushing through a set of double doors, Robin noticed that three more officers followed them as they made their way to the front entrance.

Before Robin, Chloe and the three other officers could leave the building, a woman's voice bellowed out from behind the fivesome.

"Hey! Chloe!"

Chloe turned herself to face the desk clerk; the other three officers plus Robin did the same.

"What's up Trish?"

Trish, a mid-thirty year old with poufy brown hair, little to no make-up applied to her face and a uniform that was struggling to encage her obese frame answered, "I just got another call from someone from Pinehurst Street. According to the guy who called, some woman and her kid found a dude dead in an alleyway with a stab wound in his neck"

On cue, Chloe lifted her head to the ceiling and let out a deep sigh before vocalizing her abject disbelief in this revelation rhetorically, "This day just keeps getting better doesn't it?

"Right. Officers Benson and Antwhistle, you're not doing anything are you?" she caught the attention of two male officers who were lounging around the reception next to the water dispenser.

"Um, uh . . ." one of the officers stumbled before Chloe answered on their behalf . . .

"Good, you two are coming with us. O'Reilly, Walker" she commanded to the female and male officers who were in conversation with one another, "you two can also make yourselves busy by joining us"

Being more enthusiastic by the demand than the other two officers, O'Reilly and Walker joined the huddle of officers; Benson and Antwhistle shortly joined.

"Right ladies and gentlemen. We've got two situations on our hands at this moment in time. Whatever you have to do for the rest of the day, forget about that, because I need all the teamwork that you lot can muster for today, okay? Good, now . . ."

Standing a few footsteps out from the group, Robin stood back in awe at the female officers blunt instructions. From someone who looked virtually harmless on the outside, a tough, straight-to-the-point, confident woman was now emerging; Robin was impressed to say the least.

"O'Reilly, Gershwin, Stevenson and Stanley" Chloe picked off each officer one by one, "you four will go the Jump City Central Park. Secure the area, make sure that the body is secured before an ambulance arrives and find the person who phoned the station; to clarify, you're looking for a . . ." Chloe took her notebook from her back pocket, flipped through a few pages before stabbing her finger onto her desired page, " . . . Miriam Stimpson. Find her, bring her back here and take a full statement from her, understood?"

All four officers responded to Chloe's orders before breaking away to go to their destination.

"The rest of you: Benson, Antwhistle, Walker and . . . Robin" Chloe again, picked off the officers and the lone Titan lastly, "we're off to Pinehurst Street. Again, we'll secure the body until an ambulance shows up, take any statements, find the people who discovered the body and look for any CCTV that will help us in this investigation, are we clear?"

"Crystal" the three officers replied to Chloe.

"Alright, let's move"

As the four police officers piled out of the front door, Chloe noticed that they were one short. Her eyes went over to the only person who had held back.

"You coming or not Robin?"

Snapping out of his state of veneration at the female officer, Robin came back into reality. To him, Chloe did not look older than someone in her mid-twenties, which was one of the reasons he was not interested in her assistance other than to re-fill a coffee mug, but seeing this angelic looking woman – the type that you would not expect to say 'boo' to a goose – command a batch of burly, mid-forty year old man and stern, stone faced woman, certainly made him see her in a different light,

"Uh, yeah, sure, I'm coming"

Finding the Titans' baffled expression kind of amusing, Chloe said, "I'm guessing Steve didn't tell you that I'm a Sergeant?"

"Uh, no"

Tittering, Chloe entered back into 'Sergeant' mode, "Well, we can't stand here all day, we gotta get going."

After Dr. Adrian Marley had finished writing up the reports for both Richie Caspar and Iona Islington and handed both documents to Cyborg – under the illusion that Cyborg would be giving them to Lieutenant Steve Brauner – the cybernetic being had made his way over to the hospital cafeteria. Sat at a rickety plastic wooden, sat on an even ricketier wooden chair, he had a large plate filled with an order of bacon, sausages, toast and hash browns, a much smaller plate to right contained two bagels with small sachets of butter next to them, a cup of coffee and tall glass of fresh orange juice.

Chocolate brown eyes surveyed the half eaten plate of food on the plate, the only uneaten, dry bagel, half drunk orange juice and untouched coffee that had gone cold long ago. If he was being truthful, he was too riled up to consume the rest of his breakfast because he was still seething after his heated discussion with Robin.

No matter how hard he thought about the Boy Wonder's words, the more he was dumfounded by his leader's blatant lack of concern for the Tamaranian. Did he even care about Starfire?

Well, clearly he doesn't. He's shown that finding a criminal is more important than the person he supposedly loves.

He ran his hands roughly across his face before pushing away the plates of uneaten food. He could not remember a time where he felt this low. He was feeling slightly fatigued despite being four-fifths charged; he was not sure whether he was still suffering from his experience in the morgue or because of the severe frustration that he felt after the confrontation.

It took about fifteen seconds for the crimson-haired paramedic to finally snap the cybernetic superhero out of his stupor.

"Excuse me, Cyborg?" Angela Starr gave the Titan a small nudge on his shoulder.

Cyborg pulled his face from his hands and looked into the hazel eyes of the young paramedic and answered, "Huh?"

"Are you here for Starfire?"

"St-Starfire's here?"

"Yeah, didn't you know . . .?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that she was injured. I've been here for about two hours concerning something else."

"Oh, okay. Well, Starfire's currently in ICU. Raven and BeastBoy are with her; I can take you to her room if you'd like?"

Rising rather quickly from his seat, Cyborg replied, "Yeah, please, that is if you're not busy?"

"Of course not"

Moments ago, BeastBoy's and Raven's spirits were incredibly depleted, but now, they had been lifted. Dr. Eric Lloyd had re-emerged from Starfire's room a few moments after Raven had asked her green teammate about Robin's whereabouts and alerted the superheroes that the Tamaranian had woken up.

As though the pair of them had sat on hot coals, the empath and changeling shot out of their seats, barged pass the doctor and froze at the moment they clapped eyes on their friend.

Starfire slowly moved her head, wincing at the pain, and greeted her friends with a weak smile. "Greetings friends" These were the only two words that left her mouth; they were spoken through a shallow, silent whisper. Despite feeling like shit, she was not going to let her friends see her in discomfort. She was a warrior of Tamaran. Even in injury or near death, she was not going to show her pain; she would show her friends that she was strong . . . she is strong. Even as her green skinned 'brother' ran to her bed, eyes as red as Tamaran's seven moons, sobbing loudly; tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she would not allow this to happen.

She was a warrior of Tamaran. She is strong.

As BeastBoy took Starfire's hand into his own, he said, "Hey Star. How're ya doing?"

Maintaining the strained whisper, she replied, "I'm . . . what is that saying again? . . . The 'correct as precipitation'"

BeastBoy could not help but exclaim a small chortle at the orange-skinned girl's misuse of sayings. She had been on Earth now for around four years and still, she had yet to grasp the English vernacular properly.

"It's 'right as rain'"

Starfire gave another weak smile and thanked BeastBoy for correcting her. Her emerald orbs shifted from her green teammate to the grey-skinned heroine. She noticed Raven stoicism as well the windows of her room being encased in black energy. Starfire was more than aware that Raven had severe difficulties in containing her emotions but had got better as the years had gone by, but clearly, whatever emotion she was trying to suppress at this moment in time, she was struggling. She called over to the empath, "Raven", lifting her free hand as though she was pleading for the empath to join her.

Taking a steady pace, Raven walked over to the bed stricken alien, all the while taking a small stumble here or there. Sorrow was an emotion that she struggled with immensely. Feeling other people's sadness only gave her a slight headache, her own sorrow on the other hand was a completely different kettle of fish altogether. Eventually, she made it to the Tamaranian's bedside and held her other hand, gently stroking it as she did so.

"Friend Raven, where am I? How did I get here?"

Raven would be lying to herself right now if she said that she had not prepared herself for this moment. Replaying the moments that led to Starfire being holstered up in Jump City General Hospital, Raven told her friend everything: landing at Steinhouse Avenue, a house exploding out of nowhere, hitting her head against a fire hydrant and being brought to the hospital.

Once Raven had finished re-telling the events that led to Starfire ending up in hospital, the Tamaranian's eyes drew immediately to the outside of the hospital room; the windows had finished having a taste of Raven's black energies. Outside, she saw a female paramedic accompanied by . . .

"Cyborg?"

The changeling and empath looked quizzically at the Tamaranian before turning their heads to watch the cybernetic being push through the double doors.

With a grin on his face . . . a forced grin, Cyborg exclaimed, "Thought you could start the reunion without me eh?"

Clearly not seeing past the façade, BeastBoy cracked a laugh at the 'bag of nuts and bolts', Raven acknowledged his presence with a small smile and Starfire beamed at his entrance.

"Hey Star" Cyborg greeted the Tamaranian as he walked up to her bed, stood next to BeastBoy and caringly placed his metal hand on Starfire's head.

"Cyborg. It is wondrous to see you again?" Starfire replied.

"Yeah dude, nice seeing ya again. Where've ya been?" BeastBoy's voice chirped.

Turning his head to look at the shape shifter, Cyborg elevated the two files that he held in his hands and responded, "Doing what I was asked to do"

Cyborg further explained that the files contained reports of the autopsies conducted on Richie Caspar and Iona Islington, informing his three teammates that she was the woman they discovered on Ridenour Street, and confirming that Iona had in fact been strangled to death.

"How did you know where to find us?" Raven's voice entered the mix this time.

A pang of ache hit Cyborg at this question. Whilst he was happy to learn that Starfire was at the same hospital he was in, he would have preferred it if his colleagues . . . no, his friends . . . no, his family, had told him instead of a paramedic.

"One of the paramedics who brought Starfire to the hospital showed me to this room"

"AH dude, sorry man. We completely forgot to call you"

Well, you knew that I was at the same hospital. How the hell could you forget? was what Cyborg was incredibly tempted to say, but he held his tongue.

At the other end of the bed, Raven was awash with the self-confliction that Cyborg was feeling right now; it was registering as a form of emotional distress. Why? For what reason was he feeling low? On the surface, he was he traditional, smiling self, but beneath the surface . . .

"Friends" Starfire called. The three heroes looked down at the Tamaranian as she asked the question that they all wished that she was not going to ask, "Where is Robin?"

Black high heels clicked against the concrete as thirty-seven year old Neiva Lesley broke out in a small jog on her way to her destination. She had been distracted earlier as she was caught up in a crowd that surrounded an alleyway where, apparently, a man had been stabbed to death. No matter how hard she tried to sneak a peak, there were too many people that had congregated around the alleyway, so ultimately, she gave up and left to go to work.

Checking her wristwatch, she had thirty seconds left until nine-forty-five; otherwise she would be docked pay. She made her living being self-employed as a house cleaner and the man who had asked her to clean his apartment said that he would pay her 'handsomely', more than double of what she charged to be precise, if she would do the job; if she was late, then she would be turned away. She had been called roughly half an hour ago and whilst she did not work Sunday's, she was not going to turn down more than double her fee and so, she had literally rushed from her home to get to this apartment; she was now really regretting wearing high heels.

Finally, Neiva reached the apartment and rang on the doorbell. Through the intercom, a male voice crackled through the electronic device, "Yes?"

Her Spanish tinted voice answered, "This is Neiva sir, the cleaner that you required?"

"Ah, right on time as well" the sound of a buzzer ran.

Reacting to the buzzer, Neiva pushed open the wooden door and closed it behind her. She climbed one flight of stairs before being greeted by a stern looking gentleman standing at an open doorway. The immediate thing she noticed about the man was the eye patch that covered his left eye, his right eye a glistening pool of blue, white hair that matched the short beard and wore a suit that looked as though it cost quite a bit of money as well.

"I apologise mister. You will not believe what happened out in the street" her Spanish tongue contained intermission of panting as she entered the living room that looked . . . surprisingly clean?

"There's no need to apologise Ms. Lesley. You were not late and that's all that matters"

Turning to face the towering gentleman, she replied, "Thank you very much mister . . . uh . . ."

"Wilson"

Neiva made a mental note the name before turning back on the room.

"So, exactly what rooms do you need cleaned?"

Mr. Wilson shut the apartment door. He slid the deadbolt across before turning back on the cleaning woman.

"Mr. Wil- . . ." Neiva turned to face the gentleman who returned her look with a cold, sharp, unemotional glare, like jagged ice.

"Um, Mr. Wilson, I hope you don't think of me as rude, but does this apartment really need cleaning?"

"Cleaning?"

"Yes, that's why you called me. I am a cleaner after all"

A low, rumbling chuckle filled Mr. Wilson's throat before he replied, "Do you remember our little conversation over the phone?"

What the hell was this? Some sort of childish joke?

"Of course I do. You phoned me no more than forty-five minutes ago and you said that you wanted me to come here."

"Precisely, for you to 'come here' . . . I never said anything about you coming here to clean."

Neiva started to panic slightly . . . actually, she started shaking. She had read about these kinds of things all the time in the newspaper, but she never thought that this kind of thing would happen to her. Instinct suddenly kicked in as she ran into the kitchen that was only a few feet away, pulled open a few drawers before taking a bread knife out of the last drawer she opened.

With her voice going up an octave, she squealed, "You . . . you stay away from me you sick bastard."

Smiling evilly, Mr. Wilson took one step closer to the cleaner; cackling at the sight of her clumsily pointing the knife in his direction.

With her attention solely fixed on the madman, Neiva shifted herself around the room slowly; not once taking her unblinking eyes off him.

"Stay away or I swear on my life I will stab you" her rattling voice shrieked through the four walls.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her back. Moving her eyes from the white haired man, she looked down at her chest; gasping in terror at the sight of a glint of metal sticking through the left side of her chest, a river of red staining her beige sweater and flowing down her trousers.

The second thing she felt was a shallow breath next to her right ear as a female voice whispered, "From where I'm standing, it's your life".

She, sharply, removed the knife that had pierced her heart and watched in pleasure as the cleaner dropped to her knees, gasped for her last drops of oxygen before collapsing on the laminate floorboards.

She stared at the lifeless woman for what felt like an hour but in reality was only ten seconds with a stony glare, almost hypnotic, before being brought out of her daze by his voice.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I say that you liked this work a little too much"

With the same emotionless glare etched on her face, she replied, "Like you said . . . this is strictly business" before turning on her heel and concluding her dialogue, "I'm having a shower, don't bother me"

Mr. Wilson only watched as his assistant stormed off into the bathroom, as smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

She took a total of twelve minutes in the shower before deciding to finish. Within that time she spent relishing in the refreshing sensation of clean water ridding her body of the morning grittiness, she stewed in her own inner anger.

She was still pissed off at his last words before they entered the apartment.

Finishing with the towel she used to dry her hair, she threw it carelessly onto the uncarpeted floor where her crumpled heap of clothes she had removed lay and strode over to the wardrobe. Opening the plastic, mirrored doors, she stared at the solitary garments that hung, untouched on the plastic hangers; navy blue jeans, white t-shirt, ankle high white socks and black, lacy bra and underwear.

She removed each article of clothing and placed them on one by one. Still, she could not ignore the simmering anger that still bore in the pit of her stomach. Before she had chance to slip her shoes back on, she felt an icy thrill travel up and down her spine. She turned her head she noticed the one, solitary eye peering through the crack in the door.

"Never had you down as a peeping Tom" she snipped at Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson could not help but exclaim a small cackle from underneath his breath, barely audible. Slowly, he pushed the door open and step by step, inch by inch, he made his way over to the young woman.

She kept telling herself, over and over, chanting it as though it was some sort of mantra . . .

You're mad with him. You're mad with him. You're mad with him . . .

However, she could not stop the sweet shiver that ran through her body as he ran an open palm across the top right side of her head; brushing away the strand of blonde hair that covered her eye.

As he took away his hand, he swore that he saw a sparkle in her eyes after the moment of physical contact. Smirking underneath his mask, he broke the silence, "We have to leave my dear"

There it was again, the slight trembling in her knees at him calling her 'dear'. He turned to walk back to the briefcase on the table, stepping over Neiva's body in the process, as she gently touched her face; the part were his gloved hand had touched, up to the hair clip that he put in her blonde locks.

Maybe . . . maybe he . . .

There was a certain softness in his stare as he placed the clip in her hair; she was absolutely convinced of that. It was that subtlety that made her walls on anger cave in. The feelings that she felt on their way to the apartment re-surfaced and encased her entire being.

Surely he knows by now.

"Officer, can you tell what has happened?"

"We have witnesses saying that a man has been killed in that alleyway down . . ."

"Please stay behind the cordon . . . and no comment"

"Is the person a man called William Wilson?"

"Does this have anything to do with the events of earlier this morning?"

"What about Hannah Young? The girl that was found in Jump City Central Park? What can you say . . .?"

"Again, no comment. Now, if you could please . . ."

"Do you have any suspects at this moment in time?"

"Are these murders linked in any way?"

"Officer, do you have any news on any of the other individuals who have been murdered?"

"No question will be answered until we have answers. And for the last time . . . Oi!"

Robin and Chloe looked on as Ash Benson, Orlando Antwhistle and Kirsty Walker attempted to keep newscasters, cameramen, paparazzi and pedestrians back behind the yellow and black police cordon . . . and one cameraman broke away from the crowd before being rugby tackled by Kirsty of all people.

Robin scoffed in surprise at the sight of five-foot-one Kirsty Walker tackling a two-hundred and thirty pound monstrosity of a cameraman down to the ground whilst Ash and Orlando looked on in . . . wonder? Astonishment? Embarrassment? All of the above?

As Kirsty dragged the obese man off the ground by the scruff of his t-shirt – rather roughly Robin would freely admit – The Boy Wonder turned his attention to the opposite end of the street where an ambulance had just arrived.

Moments later, two paramedics piled out of the vehicle to retrieve the body. Chloe pointed them in the direction of the deceased.

Roughly a minute later, the paramedics wheeled the dead body of Billy Wilson out of the alleyway; his body had been covered with a blanket due to the lack of a body bag.

Before making their was back to the vehicle, one of the paramedics approached Chloe and handed her an envelope and said, "This was found on the mans body"

Chloe was about to take the envelope before realising that she was not wearing anything to protect her hands. No way was she going to corrupt what was clearly evidence.

Taking the initiative – and because his hands were gloved – Robin took the envelope from the male paramedic and thanked him. He waited for the paramedics to leave before he thought about opening it.

He turned the envelope and stared at the front. His masked eyes registered the red T that was etched on the document. Feeling around the envelope, he felt a circular object buried down in the bottom left hand corner. Wracked with curiosity, he tore down the centre of the envelope and tilted it until the object fell into his free hand.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Chloe was confused by the hero's actions.

As his heart before to pick up in speed, he answered, "I don't think this is for the police Chloe . . . I think this is for the Titans"

As he spoke, his eyes were glued to the object the lay on the green glove . . . a small CD. Instinctively, he knew exactly what to do with the disc. He took out his communicator and opened the flap. Next, he pressed the bottom of the communicator, where a small compartment opened; the appropriate size for the CD to fit. He placed the disc into the compartment and closed it.

The screen ceased showing a fuzzy screen as a video clip began playing. Robin's heart almost stopped beating when the screen showed the figure standing in front of the camera that shot the clip.

"Greetings Titans"

Beneath a low, guttural rumble, Robin breathed out the name that he hated more than any other name in the world, the name that filled his throat with so much bile that it threatened to choke him, the name that he would stop at nothing to rid Jump City of . . .

"Slade!"

The orange and black clad ex-assassin continued speaking.

"I can only apologize for not being there in person to greet you, but as usual, I am a very busy man and I do have a lot of work on my plate already. Since it has probably registered in your minds already, I'll just go ahead and reiterate. The man that you have just found in the alleyway . . . I am responsible for his death. I am also responsible for the death of the other individuals that you have discovered: Richie Caspar, Iona Islington, Saira Thurman, Hannah Young, Bill Wilson, Ellie Illingworth . . . all of them have fallen due to my hand. And more will follow . . . I guarantee it.

"However, I can assure that these are not senseless killings. These people have died for a reason, they have died for a purpose, they have died for something much greater than them. I have no doubt that you'll discover that reason long before the twenty-four hours, but until then, I invite you to partake in a little treasure hunt.

"You see, I thought that it would be unfair for you to go gallivanting around the city all day long, not knowing where to go or who to look for. I am confident that you will find me before the twenty-four hours are over. Of course, I'm not going to tell you where I am . . . you already know that answer. You might not know it yet, but soon . . . like a firework . . . it'll burst in your mind and you will come running to get me.

"But until that time comes" the screen changed from Slade's image to a map with a red dot flashing and an address above the dot, "the image you are looking at right now is where the next golden coin lays." The image changed again and showed the picture of a Spanish looking woman, "May I introduce you to Mrs. Neiva Lesley, thirty-seven years of age, a single mother to a thirteen month old boy . . . she is currently located at the destination showed previously" the flashing dot and address on the map returned, "she is currently at this location. However, she does not have much time left. At ten a.m., Neiva will perish . . . that is, if you have received this message on time."

Slade's cackle filled the airwaves as his figure returned on the communicators screen and concluded, "I look forward to seeing you soon."

The screen cut out and returned to its fuzzy state.

Robin glared at his communicator in shock. He experienced a numerous range of emotions: anger, repulsion, confusion, fear, hate . . .

He started to run.

Chloe looked on as the Boy Wonder broke off into his mad sprint. She had been standing over his shoulder as he watched the illustrious Slade address the Titans, provoking them, taunting them, challenging them . . . challenging them to find him.

The police sergeant returned her thoughts back to the message.

That maniac said that those people died for a reason. What reason? What the hell is he planning? And who the hell is: Iona Islington and Ellie Illingworth?

Ash Benson knocked Chloe out of her moment of thought, "Sergeant Maxwell!"

Turning her attention to her fellow officer, she acknowledged her name, "Yes. Officer Benson?"

"We've got another problem on our hands?"

"Tell me about it"

"Huh?"

"Sorry Officer. What's the problem?"

Exhaling deeply, Ash replied, "We've got another dead body in a café a quarter of a mile down the road"

*MEANWHILE*

Robin had long ejected the disc from his communicator, slipped the disc into the back pocket of his tights and was now sprinting like mad to the destination on the map; communicator in hand. After removing the disc, he checked the time via the communicator and saw that he had less than four minutes until Slade's words became true. Once the disc was out, he programmed the location where Neiva was and saw that he was over half a mile from where he needed to go.

With his eyes alternating between the devices screen and to where he was going, he picked up his pace.

His determination in saving this Neiva Lesley was mashed with the message that Slade had left behind. A lot of it was typical Slade-talk; what with his taunting dialogue, intimidating aura, dark, cackling voice, but a lot of his message did not make a lick of sense. His mind kept playing back bits and pieces of his speech . . .

'. . . all of them have fallen due to my hand. And more will follow . . .'

'More will follow?' More people are going to be killed? Why? For what reason was he killing these people for? This was nothing like Slade's previous schemes. Robin knew that Slade had had a gruesome history in Gotham City long before he changed directions and came to Jump City, but everything that he did in Jump always centred solely on the Titans, never around civilians. So why the sudden change in tactic? What exactly was his motivation?

'These people have died for a reason, they have died for a purpose, they have died for something much greater than them'

'Died for a purpose?' No matter what the reasoning, no matter the intention or the motivation behind a person's logic, Robin always believed that no one had the right to take a life; the sole, solitary reason that he was staunchly against the death penalty. If that was one thing that he hated about California, the death penalty was legal.

'. . . you'll discover that reason long before the twenty-four hours'

That piece stumped him. Twenty-four hours? If Slade had said 'by the end of the day', then that would have made more sense, but twenty-four hours?

'I am confident that you will find me before the twenty-four hours are over'

Again with the twenty-four hours. Why the twenty-four hours? What the hell was Slade planning within those twenty-four hours?

'I'm not going to tell you where I am . . . you already know that answer'

The Titans knew where Slade was hiding? Well, Robin knew for a fact the he and the rest of the team had no clue where Slade was. There had been sightings of Slade seven months ago and despite countless searches of these locations, the Titans and the authorities came up short.

Do I really know where he his? Is he telling the truth? Then again, this is Slade . . .

One final sentence that puzzled The Boy Wonder was . . .

'. . . soon . . . like a firework . . . it'll burst in your mind and you will come running to get me'

Robin greatly noted the deliberate pause and the choice of adjective. It was almost as though Slade had chosen that descriptive term for a reason. Out of all the other words he could have used, Slade chose 'firework', why? Was this a clue or was Robin being paranoid?

Robin almost did not notice that he had arrived at the apartment where Neiva was held captive.

He broke into such a fast sprint; it would have put Kid Flash to shame. Perspiration was flowing like a river down his face, his breathes were becoming shorter, laboured, painful, he muscles were aching with every movement he made. He was eating up the centimetres rapidly . . .

I'm almost there . . .

I'm almost there . . .

I'm almost there . . .

*BOOM*

The thunderous sound of the explosion sent fire, wood, smoke, debris, glass . . . everything flying everywhere. Robin ceased his sprint and instinctively dived on the concrete floor, avoiding the spray of wreckage. Instantly, he felt the intensity of the fire hit him with full force; Robin truly believed that his skin was literally melting off his bones.

Not knowing how much time had passed, he removed his masked stare from the protection of his arm and looked up the flaming wreckage.

One word entered his mind as he stared upon the flames of hell. The word that he point blank refused to use in order to describe himself . . .

Failure.

END OF CHAPTER TEN

No, I'm not dead, I'm alive and well.

I've had this chapter finished for a while now but just neglected to get it posted. Plus, I haven't written up any proceeding chapters. Been very busy with university and have just dried up on creativity.

Not to worry, I'll do my best to have another chapter up by the end of the month. I'll be away for a week by Monday, but will get back to writing as soon as possible.

Until next time . . .