"Was there a point to that, Bird Brain?" I grunt, still picking the spines out of my ass from battling that damn monkey. Didn't fair to well with the either, and don't get me started about the snake. I had never realized how insanely impossible it was to defeat someone who hid, completely unknown, among the shadows. I'm usually on the other side of those fights.
"I fought those same battles once, seeking the true master, and not only did it make me a better warrior, but I became a better man, too." Oh god. Enough with the spiritual mumbo-jumbo, already. I am sick of all of the goddamn riddles. Can't I, for once in my life, get a straight fucking answer?
Did I mention that I now boast a once clean white uniform? Amazingly, Robin and I are the same size. Who would have guessed? Besides the fact that I stole his Red X weaponry and suit and have been wearing them ever since.
A white belt is tied securely around my waist. You know what really grinds my gears? Bird-Brain knows that I am at the very least a black belt, and yet he still throws this piece of toilet paper at my feet. I silently continue to fume as Robin escorts me into a small dojo at the peak of the treacherous mountain, which, might I mention, is completely identical to the one at the bottom of the hill! Goddamn it to hell. The stream rising from my ears grows a bitter hotter, along with my attitude.
Upon entrance, the wooden building is in no way the same as the other dojo. Everything is cloaked in shadow, newspapers strewn about on the table and floor. A small, old fashioned, box computer is tucked in the corner on an equally cluttered desk, connected to hundreds of wires streaming to god-knows-where. Plastered across the walls, string connects tiny pictures and articles. With closer examination, every little bit of pinned information addresses someone on the tapes, except for one lone slip of paper on the far wall, which is slathered with thick, black, sharpie. Written on it, surrounded by a looping red circle, is 'Goth Boy?', and a I try to make sense of that, I notice that almost every string in the room is connected to that small, crinkled piece of paper, which is also surrounded by dozens of throwing knifes.
Looks like someone isn't too happy with me.
"So…" I drawl, about to continue when Robin cuts me off. "I have every possible significant piece of information on every Titan and non-Titan on the recordings." With a swift check, there are multiple little quips on every person I've heard about from those retched tapes, plus the ones I haven't. There are very few strings connecting to the original Titans, like Starfire and Cyborg, but almost all of the strings connect to three of the pictures. Terra, Slade, and Goth Boy. Slade's photo is only one of a cracked mask, which has been slashed through by a thick red marker. Terra's, of the former Titan grinning into the camera and hugging Beastboy, has a big, sloppy question mark traced along the side.
"Why so interested in 'Goth Boy'?" jerking my thumb in the direction of the slip surrounded by kunai. Before I can blink, Robin whips another knife out of his shirt and it punches into the center of the slip of paper.
"Ummm," I mutter in slight surprise, "Never mind." Ignoring me, Robin scowls, "He's the key to the recordings. Everything somehow connects to him, and if I could just unlock his secrets… who and where he is, I could put a stop to all of this."
Cautiously, I ask, "All of what?" His head jerks around to give me an are you fucking daft look. "You don't know?" I slowly shake my head.
He treads towards the wall, and traces his finger along a freelance thread, which shoots off from the Goth Boy slip, as well as the Slade and Terra pictures. It leads across the wall to a section surrounded by books, just like the ones Raven would read as she lay her head in my lap and stroked her hair. Spell books. The picture is one torn from one of the pieces of literature, a drawing of a massive demon, towering over a small, flaming village, roaring into the purple, starry sky. One of his horns is touching a sparkling ball of light, which has burst into a million tiny specks of fire. His gruff, dirty hands hold entire houses, in which the windows hold screaming children and mothers. The true devil to some I know who he really is, and Robin speaks his name aloud, the shear mention of him sending spiders up and down my spine. "Trigon."
"He's coming," Robin's dark stare confirms my suspicions. I pull my hand through my matted hair, crusted from not being cleaned for days. "Shit." I lean back onto a pile of discarded news papers, the darkness becoming a bit to stuffy for my taste. "Well, how is Goth Boy connected to all of this? Why not Slade, who's bargained with Trigon before, or Terra?"
"Slade played with fire once, and he's too smart to get burned again." His attention returns to the walls covered in articles, only having answered one of my questions.
Frustrated, I ask again, "Why not Terra?" Robin slowly turns to look me in the eye, his mask not withholding the solemnity in his gaze. "Because Terra's dead."
"What do you mean Terra's dead? She still murdered Beastboy, so she's the prime suspect." I wave my hands around in frustration, swatting at invisible flies.
Robin sighs, and runs his fingers through his spiked hair, "No. You don't understand. Terra hasn't been alive since she had that final battle with Slade. She never came out of the stone." My confusion must have been pretty obvious, because Robin continued. "Damien, she didn't kill Beastboy."
Speedy kneels on the rocky, brimstone cliff, towering above the ocean of blackness, a never ending pit of darkness, no bottom in sight. Fire surrounds every part of the vast cavern, a hellish chamber that Trigon so proudly has claimed as his own. Speedy relishes the heat of the flames against his back, feeling the powers that Trigon has given him surge through his veins. He closes his fist, and a fire snuffs out behind him, without so much as a whisper. A wicked grin peels at his face.
"Master, what may I do for you in return for these great strengths you have so graciously granted me?" Speedy's tone hint towards sarcasm, but not enough to show rebellion, just giddiness and greed. Trigon's dominant voice booms throughout the cavern, echoing far longer than possible. It seems that the masked boy has found the misguided bird. He is beginning to see the past the deceit that you have created.
Speedy winced, "I made that trail full proof and through. There is no way…"
You have not been thorough enough. He sees past your pathetic sound recordings, and now the lost bid has led him onto my path.
"Forgive me, my lord. It will not happen again." Speedy bows his head, smugness misguiding him, so that he does not see the gravity of his fault. Trigon' voice rises to more power, if that is even possible.
No. It will not.
The fire begins to inch toward Speedy. He clamps his fist shut, but that only ignites the flames. The panic begins to boil in his gut, and he clambers to his feet, scrambling away from the fire, clambering towards the very edge of the stone. The fire licks at his boots, melting the advanced, fire-proof rubber like marsh mellow. He flips around, onto his knees, begging for mercy. "Please, lord, I beg for your forgiveness!" His voice a high squeal.
Coward.
The flames disappear, receding back against the wall, creating twisted and agonized shadows, displaying what his fate would have been for him, and will be, if he fails again.
You are granted one final chance. If you fail me again, your destiny will be far worse than anything you can ever imagine with your tiny, human brain.
Speedy gulped and nodded, shivering in his melted boots.
You will find the masked boy, and end his existence.