A/N

As per request, I tried my very best to finish this chapter by halloween. I truly did. I just didn't get around to it. My apologies
Oh, and you can forget my predictions on this being the shortest of the three arcs. We're already running two chapter's behind my original intent. And even when they are bigger ones, I can't wrap this first part of the last arc just up like that. It'll be one more chapter, I think. For the first part of the third arc.
I'm hoping nobody is growing discontent with my focus on the other characters outside of the Teen Titans. If you are, my bad and I'm sorry. I try to make it entertaining all the way around. And Raven and BB will be huge players in this arc, as it revolves around them in more than one way. But looking back, this beginning is a bit slow on that. And I'm guessing BB and Rae is, for many of you, at least one of the major reasons for reading a BBxRae fic.

Anyways many thanks to the new followers and subscribers! All five of you. You are wonderfull people that made my day.

A special thanks to the reviewers since last update.
By the way. I think I'll be sticking to longer chapters. It's important to me, to keep the flow of the story going. And the feedback I got didn't seem to mind longer chapters and longer waits. So thank you all for that feedback.

Whoeelsebutme11, I'm glad to hear I'll have your support. It's most valued and welcome. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as I enjoyed your kind words. I'll stick to the longer chapters, I think. Many thanks.

RPGPersona, I don't think I've ever had a reader/reviewer as dedicated to detail as you. I love how you think and notice many small details and often figure out where things do not fit, or do not seem to fit yet. It's most flattering and enjoyable to see. I also think you have a good grasp on my vision on the characters. I thank you for your kind words and your continued attention.
Also, I know you weren't the one to suggest this, but Mag2K makes a good point. I don't know if you'd concider it. And if you don't feel like it or don't think you have the time or simply don't want to, you of course don't have to. But if you by any chance want to be a Betareader, let me know. I had one at the start of the first Arc. It helped me out. But it didn't remain. I wouldn't mind a new Betareader. And definitely someone who's proven himself insightfull and knowledgeable. But I wouldn't want to impose. And I know from first hand that Betareading can be a dreafull and boring chore, not worth the effort.

Psychoninjawolf, Your comments always put a smile on my face. I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the previous chapter. And that you like longer chapters. So far, no-one seems to dissagree with you. If you stick to the end of the story, I promise I'll do my best to make the ride enjoyable. Again, many thanks.

Latisha McPeanuts, Always great to see a new reader. I'm most flattered by both your reading of the entire story and your wonderfull comment. Thanks for the splendid review. I'll do my best.

Mag2k, Thank you for that amazing comment. I do read all your suggestions. Many I can't work into the story I have planned. Some might find their way into it in an altered path. But all are always great inspiration. (And fun to read as well!) I'm glad to hear you like the fluff. (I'll be honest up front, not heavily in this chapter. But there will be more throughout the story, for sure.)
And while I don't want to spoil too much... Batman's side of the story is mainly to provide something the Titans need further in the story. To give them a way to keep going. And I could cut that part entirely. But it seemed more interesting and less Deus Ex Machina-y. (Which, let's face it, the latter comes to me in this story too often.)
Also, great question regarding the Beast and it's feelings towards Nightwing. I'm actually hoping my writing will let that become clear in further chapters.
Also also, I tried to go for a halloween deadline. I failed. I'm sorry for that. But again, many thanks for reading and reviewing!


Disclaimer; No rights man, no cry.


Chapter 42: The cabin in the woods

Alternate title: Whedon & Goddard


He was running. Before he registered any new information, Beast Boy was running. Afraid to find what he was hurling for to find. Their ship grew bigger and bigger as he made his way. But so did the red cloud of toxins.

He didn't feel his heart beat once. His lungs cramped under the effort. But the reflex of breathing didn't even come to him.

When he blinked, something tackled him. Something fast and strong and hard. It pinned him to the ground. His back came into contact with coldness. Wetness. But he registered barely any of it.

"Get off me!" He screamed, blind with rage. "Get off!"

He bashed his fists furiously, yet with feeble results. Mad with fear he did all he could to wriggle himself free. To no avail.

It was the voice that called him out of it.

It was muffled. Distorted. Unrecognizable in it's mechanic tone.

"Calm down B."

And yet impossible to mistake.
His eyes focused. The cold, strong hardness that pinned him to the ground grew a face in his eyes.

"Cyborg." The breath went out of him.

"Are you insane?" The cybernetic teen asked; his mouth hidden behind a white-and-blue device. It followed the lines of his cheeks and chin. Triangular in form, but without edges.

"Cyborg!"

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, running into a cloud of poison?" He asked, still pinning him down as if afraid the green Titan would run in anyway. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"You were in trouble." Beast Boy laughed defending himself,.

He judged his own expression to be one torn between a smile of relief and a grimace of annoyance on being called out.

"No I wasn't." Cyborg said, releasing one hand to point at the machine on his face. "Immediate air-filter." The odd triangle folded into itself, disappearing into the robotic parts of Cyborg's neck.

"Well I didn't know that you could breathe the air, dude." Garfield grumbled as his friend got to one knee and released him entirely.

"You did know you couldn't." Victor Stone retorted, getting up fully and reaching out his hand.

The Changeling took it and hoisted himself up. Upright he could see his buddy had tackled him right out of harms' way. He'd probably used his thrusters to do it. "Seriously now, man, I almost didn't have you in time."

They looked over to their transport. The red vape still clung about it. His friend's cybernetic eye didn't linger for long, however. Already he was scanning their surroundings.

"You picking up on something?" The changeling asked.

"Nah..." Cyborg reported. "Coast seems clear."

"Then what was the point of that?"

"If I'd had to guess… They didn't want us to leave the forest."

"Yeah, well, that's a given." He said, folding his arms.

"What I mean is they didn't know we would split up. They probably saw us come in and decided to booby-trap the bird."

"Well, hooray for splitting up then."

"But if they know where we've been from the get-go and Pestilence ain't here..."

Beast Boy caught his drift. "Contact the others. Now."

It didn't take Cyborg long to contact his friends. And to both of them were relieved they'd not encountered any problems so far. Other than David freaking out a couple of times and having them halt for 5 full minutes, all the while trying to focus on the sounds around them, nothing strange had popped up. Of course, once the initial relief had settled in, the dark question still loomed. Where exactly were the horsemen. And just what was their plan?

The beast-side or Garfield roared in defiance and shifted it's weight uneasily.


Robin hung up the call and faced his friends and his guide. He was keeping a brave face. It was expected of him. But Raven wagered Starfire didn't have to be his girlfriend nor she an empath to see the tells. The call with Cyborg had been a bad one at the least.

"What's up?" David Schelde asked, standing beside her with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

Her leader weighed the words in his mouth. "Is it far still?"

"Far? No." David spat. He turned, pointing at two looming mountain spires a while off, towering over the thick threes. "Just about through the crevice of the twins there. But just before coming out, we take a narrow path to the plateau bellow. From there on out? About two miles, I wager. But the terrain is tough and, the decent steep and daylight is fading fast."

That much was true. Out here in the wild, darkness seemed to not so much creep towards them but rush full frontal. It wouldn't be long before the sun set behind the far-off hills. Already it's light had turned a dark orange. This wasn't the city life.

"We can get through the twins before darkness, but the last part of the way we'll be traveling in twilight at best. These are short days. Long nights."

"Dark days." Raven said under her breath.

"What is the going on, Robin?" Starfire asked, redirecting the topic. She knew him too well to be distracted by his answering a question with a question.

"We won't be getting a pick-up just yet." Their leader sighed. "There was a booby-trap at our craft."

"Is beast… Are the boys okay?" Raven asked.

"They're fine."

"What happened?" Starfire asked.

And Robin told them. And when he was done, the forest seemed all that much darker. He'd urged them to go on. Cyborg would need time to check the craft for additional booby-traps and to get all of the toxins out. Heading back to regroup wasn't an option either. He'd pointed out, and she'd found herself agreeing, that if they managed to set up the gas-bomb, they were not far off. Which meant their adversaries were close to the akoben too.
All in all, their small group set off again soon. But more and more Raven found her eyes scanning the thick forestry around them. And she wasn't the only one. David kept his hands tightly gripped on his rifle and wore an especially foul expression.
Twice she and Starfire had offered to fly them over the tough, rocky terrain leading up to the pass between the spirals. Twice he'd curtly refused. The third time the girls had shared a look and picked him up regardless. As starfire carried Nightwing, Raven grabbed the unsuspecting woodsman. He cursed. He struggled. He raged and threatened. But he didn't harm her.
She'd been grateful for the progress they made. There was still enough lighting when they arrived at the crevice. Though long shadows continued to grow as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. And yet she was overcome by frustration when David sulked, almost like a big child. For the longest time he refused to go on. Refused to show them the way. They'd broken his trust, he'd said. If they wanted to do it their way, they could do it their way, he'd said.

It had taken a begrudged apology from all of them before he'd agreed to move on. By then almost all the time they'd gained had been lost. And the passage between the spires seemed darker and creepier by far.

"It's a good thing I don't want to break my neck out here." The old man had spoken as they started off again. "I don't want to trip over a rock in the dark and tumble down. Otherwise we'd have gone back to where you picked me up young lady."

She cursed him in silence. Unsure of what an effect it would have, she found she couldn't be bothered to care one way or the other.

In the pass, every boulder cast a long shadow. And before long the all of the air seemed infected with shades. The dim lights had her squinting all the way.
The pass itself was narrow. But though it kept them all close together, it always seemed like threats weren't far off. More than once she thought she saw something move. Shadows moving amidst darkness. Sounds echoing through the natural canyon. Some were animal. Others were rocks falling. But who or what had caused them to fall?

The vigilant Nightwing, though she feared she'd always think of him as Robin, kept a brave face. But it did little to lift her spirits. Their descent into darkness had her imagining eyes watching just beyond her line of sight. And more than once did she spot the skeletal horse, her horse, looking down at her from top of the rocky plateaus that trapped them. She could feel the non-existent eyes watching her. Waiting.
It could appear anywhere. And at anytime. In the streets of Jump City. Out here in the forest. In their base of operations. Once she even woke to found it standing next to her bed. The undead creature always gave her a fright that stopped her heart from beating for just a sec. But that experience had been truly horrifying. She'd lashed out at it then. Pushed it, throwns stuff at it. She'd even cursed it out loud. But nothing had worked. It seemed not to react. Not even respond, to her desperate attempts to escape.
She wished she could talk to someone about it. But the only one she'd shared it's existence with was currently helping his friend fix their ride out of the forest. He seemed half a world away. She would not keep secrets from Garfield anymore. But as no-one else could see it. And no one could help her with it, she tried her best to just ignore it. Perhaps if she didn't talk about it… Perhaps if she didn't acknowledge it, the invisible, bony stalker would leave her alone. A fool's hope, she knew deep down. But with nothing else to do, clinging to it was all she could do not to go mad.

She was shocked to find herself so enveloped in her own thoughts that for a second she feared she'd gotten separated from the group. In truth, David had turned into a crevice in the wall of the right side of the canyon, leading her friends down the same path. She hurried and followed into the utterly, pitch-black darkness.
Each one of them was quick to light a light. Before the pathway became to narrow for even two to walk side by side, Raven could see each one. David had an old-time lighter. Nightwing had a small but potent flashlight produced from god-knows-where. Starfire kept two bolts of green light in her hands. Raven uttered her mantra and a small white orb of light darted and flew around her; following her every move.
Before long she found herself, last in her group, descending deeper and deeper into the emptiness. Her tread was light and cautious. More than once she'd almost tripped over a rock or slipped and fell. And she was certain she was full of bruises from all the bumps along the way. The grunts from her comrades told her she wasn't the only one. As she clung to the cold stone at her back, moving sideways, she tried to focus on their light.

But as dark as that passageway had been. She still didn't immediately notice leaving it. It wasn't until she felt the snow. The world had grown wider than the narrow crevice. But she could scarcely see any of it. Not until they all lowered their lights.

"Give me a sec." The man named Schelde asked. "Need to get my bearings."

And as her eyes adjusted to the absence of the light, the wider world came slightly into view. She could see the tree-lines now. She could feel the wind and the snow. She could hear a stream of water. Next to her Robin stretched.

"If I never see snow again, it will be too soon." Starfire said, as their guide took a moment to figure out where to go.

"What's that?" She asked.

"I have seen the earthen snows before." The alien girl said, watching thick flakes landing on the palm of her hand. "But ever since they came to Jump City, I've lost my love for them."

"Yeah." Raven found herself agreeing. It had been much too cold for much too long. Being half a demon, she was used to hotter temperatures. And the unnatural snowstorm that had wreaked havoc on their hometown had left little to appreciate. Even if this storm was but a normal one. "The city's still recovering from all that damage."

"And will be for a long time coming." Their leader added. Ever the optimist.

"This way." David said, snapping them out of it. He didn't even wait for them to follow.

It wasn't just the night's air. There was something cold in his voice.

"What's with him?" Robin joked softly as he elbowed her arms softly.

She followed suit, wondering the same thing. She hadn't given it much thought, but all throughout their descent into the cavern, the old man't spirits had grown more bitter. As an empath she could sense his anxiety. It was growing with each step they took. His mood had grown darker too.

Even his pace seemed to slow. Not that it wouldn't have been understandable. With the lack of stars and moon in the sky, treading around the forest was most dangerous. But, in the short time she'd gotten to know the bitter old man, she'd learned this wouldn't be something to hold him back. He was a mule. Stubborn. Could not be coaxed into going where he didn't want to go. And couldn't be stopped from getting where he was going. And he seemed to be a mule that knew this forest like that back of his hand. She couldn't think of one thing that could slow this ass down.

Eventually, the tension got too high. His mind too occupied. She had to ask. But when she asked him what was wrong. He barked a short answer, telling her to mind her own business. They went the rest of the way in silence. His foul mood having proven contagious.

When the end of their journey came into view. She was glad for it. Even if it were such a dreary and eery one. The cabin was more ruin than home. It stood in a small clearing and looked to come straight out of a horror movie. The wooden boards were rotten and hole-ridden. The glass windows that weren't shattered were to filthy to see through. Half of the roof had collapsed. And to top it all off, a dead, half eaten elk lay at it's doorstep.

"This is it." David said. His voice remarkably soft and cautious.

The world seemed lost to him as he wandered wide-eyed towards the shack. Raven saw his grip on his gun tighten. His movements were stiff and unnatural. They followed him to the shack in silence. The only sounds they heard were from a nearby river and the wind. He walked up the steps of the front porch with them at his heels. When he put the palm of his hand to the door, it budged. It creaked open ominously.

Straining to look around him, Raven quickly found the insides of the small cabin to be a mess. But painted clearly on the floor was a large, black Akoben.

"That's not good." David Schelde whispered. "This is not how I left this place."


Bruce lurked in the shadows, patiently waiting for the night's watchman to pass. They kept him hidden well enough. The cubicle from which he peered into the hallway was pitch black. His heart beating in a steady tone, he contemplated knocking the middle-aged, slightly overweight man out. It wouldn't be a hassle. And it would undo any chance of him shining his torch into the cubicle as he passed.

But even if he did, Bruce was more than certain that the scare from coming face to face with the tall, dark Batman would give him all the time he needed to take him down silently. And as there was a good chance this man was just another employee, not in the know of the illegal things happening in the hospital, he chose the more stealthy approach. If it ever were revealed someone had broken in and stolen valuable information, the watchman would be in enough trouble as it were. A bump on his head and months of traumatic nightmares should be avoided, if possible. He would have it rough enough already.

The man passed, his breathing heavy. There was a slight grumble. But his light never entered the cubicle. His steps faded into nothingness before long.
Light on his feet, the caped crusader emerged from darkness. Without so much as making a sound he rand in the opposite direction of the watchman. He took a left. A right. A second right and a third left. The blueprints of the place flashing in his mind. He ran up a couple of stairs. Hung from them as two nurses entered the staircase suddenly, laughing in hushed voices to themselves. The effort strained his arms. But it was nothing he wasn't used to. Part of his daily training regiment was pulling himself up on bars in full, heavy armor. And with added weight. The two were too busy giggling, flirting to themselves, to even notice the fingers clamping to the edge of their floor. And they were gone as suddenly as they'd come.

He reached his first stop without any other encounters. The gilded sign on the oak door read Dr. Francis Dulmacher. A quick check of his surroundings, in the dark corridors, told him he was in fact alone. The temptation to pick the lock itched in his fingers. It was a guilty pleasure. One that haunted him just as much as his anticipation for a fight. Sneaking, breaking-and-entering, brawling, stealing… He enjoyed his work deep down. Which was, he would have to admitt, somewhat hypocritical for a man vowing to give it his all to stop the very same things.

But before he could set to picking the lock, he opened a hard flap on his left arm's armor. It revealed a panel of buttons and dials. A blue screen projected itself two inches above his arm, originating from a flashing blue slit. Working his fingers under the screen, he worked his magic. The readings displayed in squiggly lines were undeniable. If one knew how to read them The good doctor had a camera in his office. There hadn't been one sanctioned by the board. There had been no trace in any of his research before coming to the hospital in Blüdhaven. Though it was hardly surprising. High level criminals were wont to keep secrets. Just like high level businessmen. Perhaps there was a link there.

Creating a 5 second loop for the camera was easy. And as soon as he did so, he picked the lock. That too was easy. And that didn't mean much good. The doctor's office was tidy and relatively barren. That, combined with the lock made him fear there would be nothing to be found. But still, he had to try. On the left was a small, built in bookshelf. A multitude of English and German copies of medical, philosophical and psychiatric covers stared back at him. On the wall opposite of that were the same shelves. But instead of books, there were a few, marvelous trinkets. Dr. Dulmacher might be a scumbag in disguise, but he was one with exquisite taste. The bachelor had to admit. The short, ancient japanese sword placed horizontally on the holders seemed especially beautiful. It outshone even the colorful African mask, the masterfull silver little chest and the onyx medallion. The man's many diploma's and certificates were put on display a well.
Calmly he walked towards the tidy desk in the center of the room, ignoring the two, lower chairs facing it from the door's end. He could not be seen through the large, mat window spanning the far end of the room. It was a lighter desk than he would've expected. Metal and cold. With no cabinets for storage. It seemed the doctor had gone full digital. Yet there was no laptop on the desk. All he could see was a placeholder for a tablet and a keyboard which could be attached.
Efficient. No nonsense. This was a place of business. Of work. There were no pictures of family or friends to distract here. Bruce felt like he was starting to get a clear impression of this man. The only trash there was, was left in neat trashcan; an entire heap of mint-wrappers. The entire office smelled of them faintly

"Found what you were looking for, Sir?" The British voice rang in his ear.

He brought two fingers to the earpiece.

"Not yet, Alfred." He replied curtly. "The hardware I need to crack isn't here. Could be that he took it home with him."

"Give me a second, Master Bruce." The senior's voice was one of pure control and dullness. "Ah yes." He remarked. "You'll be glad to know the Waynetech satellites are still in prime shape. Give my regards to Lucius would you?"

"Give them yourself." The batman grinned. "Go have a drink with him. You need to get out more."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Master Bruce, but that is quite rich coming from you."

"I am out, Alfred." The bat smiled thinly.

"Out of your damn mind, if you ask me. Off your bloody rocker." The butler's voice rumbled off, growing more quite with each word. "Ah, yes. Here we go." He returned in a normal tone. "I have visual on his house sir. My, my, he's done quite well for himself, hasn't he?"

"And they say crime doesn't pay."

"Heat-vision's not showing him or anyone at home. Apart from his guard dogs."

"He had no appointments I could find in his schedule. He's not expected anywhere."

"I suppose the hospital is as good a place as any to find him then? The only question is how?"

"I hacked into a remote camera in his office. I'm betting it's always sending a signal to the tablet. If I can track it, I can find them both."

"Tracking the signal sir?" The Britt seemed doubtful. "Must I remind you you are in a hospital? There's more static and electric interference there than in a thunderstorm."

"True, I don't have the technology do this at hand." He answered. "But you do. Calibrate the satellite to amplify my receptor. It should help a great deal."

"As you say." Alfred resigned. "Are you sure it will work?"

It did. With Alfred's help, the blue screen displayed a signal he could track. It was a simple matter of following it as it grew stronger and adjusting his course when the signal grew faint. All the while, he kept his wits about him and his senses primed. In the back of his head, the studied blueprints re-revealed themselves with every step and every turn he took. Until he came to a dead end.

"What's wrong Master Bruce?" The voice in his intercom asked.

"Alfred. Am I close?" He asked in a hushed tone, turning his head around for a better look.

There was not much to see in the little alcove of the waiting room. Some blue plastic benches. An informational poster on hygiene and a vending machine. In the right, upper corner an old-time, small television set watched over it all.

"Not quite, sir. As a matter of fact, you've got the sensor tuned to quite the high setting of accuracy in order to notice the difference. You've barely gotten closer to the signal."

The young billionaire grunted and gritted his teeth. All that was surrounding the square waiting room were a storage unit and a janitor's closet. The wall behind the vending machine was no more than a giant mainstay, created to uphold the hospital's foundations.

"Then I have to go down." The bat said, turning around. He was still high up in the hospital, on the same floor as the doctor's office. "I'm guessing I can find the tablet somewhere in the basement. Or perhaps even lower than that."

"Fair guess, sir."

He turned, his cloak whirling. Before he could take a second step, however. He turned back, slowly.

"Master Bruce?"

"One second Alfred."
He walked up to the vending machine and studied it. He'd seen other in the hospital before. Newer ones than this model. In fact, this was the only one this old he'd seen. He checked the manufacture date on it's side. It was well over 20 years old.

"Alfred. Check the records from the hospital I left on the computer."

"Right away sir." His trusty confidant replied. "What do you want from it?"

Not a minute later, the voice in his ear informed him that two years ago, all the vending machines in the hospital had been replaced by newer models. All except for this one, it would seem.

The slits of his eyes turned to blue as he scanned everything in a different lighting. A great bunch of fingerprints came into being. But the most recent ones could be told apart from the rest. They'd been quite recent. And the same finger that had left them had touched much more keys than needed for any one snack. In fact, judging by the combinations of letters and number's he'd pushed, it was most strange that some of the candy-bars were still there.
But the biggest clue of all that something was off about this vending machine, were the track's it had left. The floor left to it was in a worse condition that that to it's right. The marks seemed to indicate that it had been dragged over the floor numerous times.
He tried moving it. But it wouldn't budge in the slightest. Luckily, there was more to the batman than brawn. He sank to a knee and produced the cryptographic sequencer build into his arm's armor once more. The blue screen showed his devices scanning, and with minimal effort, locking on. Locking on to a lock, in fact. A digital one. And with the full force of advanced Waynetech rushing through all the possible combinations, it didn't take him long to get the code. Seconds later, he was pushing the correlating numbers and letters on the old vending machine.

It slid aside to reveal a double metal door, which too slit open, giving access to a hidden elevator.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked before he could enter.

"Yes Alfred?"

"Tracking one single signal is one thing. If you go underground, we may lose contact."

"If I don't come back, I leave you Wayne Manor." He joked in a brusque voice.

"Very well sir."

And as he stepped in and the shaft took him down, much further than he could've guessed, it wasn't long before Alfred's background breathing started breaking up. By the time he finally reached the only other floor, it was nothing but static. But as the double doors slid open once again, a great many soft and complaining moans rushed out to meet him from the sterile gray corridor. A great wailing and gnashing of teeth that could have fooled him the elevator had taken him straight down to hell. He stepped through it's open, beckoning mouth and was swallowed whole.


David Schelde walked into the shack as if in trance. The three titans followed suit, eyeing their surroundings with less wonder and awe and more suspicion. And Dick Grayson bet he was most worried of all.

The omminous, black akoben on the ground kept drawing his attention. But there was much to see in this small world. The small shack had been utterly ransacked. The small, one-person bed on the right side had been completely decimated. It's thin, moldy matras had been ripped open. It's straw padding scattered across the one room hut. They were soaked in blood, now dry. And some of the crackling, dusty red was on the wall in long streaks. There were splatters of dry blood everywhere, really. Even on the ceiling, just as on the floor. The wooden boards that made up the floor were crooked and twisted from the seasons that had past. They looked like this could be their last. Papers, books and little enough cuttlery that had stood on two shelves lay beneath their broken holders. The small stack of logs and twigs in a corner lay in disarray as well. The fireplace, though blackened, didn't seem to have been lit in decades. The roof would collapse in less than six months from now, if he were any kind of judge. The small black bat in the far corner would do well to find itself a new place to stay.

"This is the place?" He heard Starfire ask behind him. She eyed a tiny mouse scrawling around shredded blankets.

He understood the tone in her voice. Somehow this shack proved to be both exactly what he'd expected of it. And yet it seemed so strangely unfitting to be a place of importance to them and their quest.

"There is an outhouse. I think." Their guide replied absentmindedly. "If it's innards didn't evolve into new life by now and the entire thing crawled off."

"Charming." Raven coughed.

"It's not like you left it?" Nighwing asked, trying to stay on topic.

When the man turned to face him, his gun was dangling in his hand. His eyes sad and worrisome. He seemed older now. "No." He spoke mournfully. "Someone's been here."

"And recently." Nightwing agreed.

This was bad. Had the horsemen already found what they were looking for. This had been their best chance to catch them, beat them to the act. And now, with their craft booby-trapped and beaten to the finish-line, this had the makings of dark night indeed.

"This place should have stayed..." The old man said. "It should have stayed as it was. It shouldn't have changed."

"Are we certain this wasn't some animal?"

"Like what?! That mouse?!" David screamed out of nowhere, his angry voice dripping with sarcasm.
It took all of them by surprise. But none as much as the mouse among the blankets he wildly pointed his finger at. Perhaps it too recognized the madness in his eyes and figured it'd do well not to be the target for it's fury. In any case it scurried out of the shack and into the wild.

Raven was a smart girl, Dick knew. But she wasn't knowledgeable on tracking and studying evidence for clues.

"These aren't animal marks." The young Grayson said. "This is the work of man." He added, trying to soothe the situation.

"This was the work of an asshole." Schelde said, sinking down on the bed. "Assholes."

"What is wrong, sir?" Starfire, ever the heart of the group, was the one to muster up the courage to ask, finally.

He looked at her, and then hung his head for a second; staring at the rifle on his lap. When he looked back up, the fire had gone out of him. But embers remained. Mayhaps that was why he made his next request.

"Get a fire going. I'll tell you all about it."

Robin set himself to it immediately. There were hardly any clues to be found here. He knew. And definitely not until Cyborg and Beast Boy returned. They had the UV-lights, the powders, the scanners, … He couldn't keep bring them all with him, but in the ship. Yet making a fire was something he could do no sweat. And indeed, the fireplace was lit soon enough. The flames danced prettily enough, casting moving shadows throughout the hut. All the ruckus seemed they'd been causing seemed to disturb the bat, hanging upside down in one of the corners. It opened it's wings and folded them back. Perhaps it didn't like the fire any more than it liked it's visitors.
But the warmth of the fire was good to Dick. He took a moment to admire his own handiwork before turning around. Still squatting he faced the old man. He however didn't seem to noticed the three pairs of younger eyes looking at him. And he spoke more to himself than to them.

"I'm the finest hunter in these woods, you know?" He asked. "Taught by my own grandfather. I got more childhood-memories from in these woods than any other place.
But one night, when we were out in the woods, a storm came upon us unexpectedly. It'd been a special trip. Just the three of us; poppop, my brother Druon, Drew, and me. It was our birthday. Our eleventh birthday."

Twins. Nightwing realized. The idea of another David Schelde existing was quite unsettling.

David continued. "Poppop had to find us a better place to shelter than he had before. A pack of wolves had come to claim the cave we'd spent the previous night in, to make it their den, and we'd barely made it out with our hides. Poppop was even even bitten before he blew the mut's brains out. Leaving him with a limp and a great deal of worries for his own chances at survival, but ours too. By all accounts, we should've returned home that very same day, grateful to be alive. And I think that had been poppop's plan. But we had to go a long way around to avoid the pack.
And that's when the storm hit. Suddenly. As quick as mountain cat jumping for it's prey. Not snow, but heavy rainfall and hail. It pelted us from above and Drew and I were crying like babes. I even more than him. Poppop had never been a man of many words. And that night his jaw stayed clenched more than ever. Though I could see the desperation in his eyes. But he was a man of action. And he didn't give up.
He kept us going. Dragged us and pushed us when needed. Picked us up when we fell down. And he kept his eyes and ears primed. Guarding and guiding us throughout the night. The howling of wolves never seemed far away. And dangers lurked from every shadow.

When we came across this abandoned shack, it seemed like a gift from God. Shelter. Protection. A chance to breathe and be warm. We took it without hesitation.
Poppop told us to lose our clothes and wrapped us in the blankets. They weren't mouldy back then. In fact, this entire place looked well maintained. Anyway, he took care of us, before refreshing the bandages on his leg from where the bitch had sunk her teeth in. I remember the dripping, bloody strips. Their smell filled the cabin. At least before the smell of burning wood took over. He lit the fire, just like this one. And if you think tonight is dark, let me tell you that one was worse. In the emerging flicker of light, that sign on the floor appeared to us for the first time.

It scared me. It scared Drew. It seemed to even unease my grandfather. As upon noticing it, he started to go through everything this hut had to offer. Drew and I ate some fishes he'd caught earlier that morning, their skin burned black and crisp. All the while he rummaged through the few books on the shelves. But he didn't find anything.

By then our safe haven had lost some of it's appeal. Drew and I grew restless. He tried to calm us down. First by telling us to shut and to keep quiet. But after a while, seeing that didn't help and that sleep would not come for us; he told us stories. Stories of these forests. Of the mountains and the waterfalls. Of the animals and spirits that lived here.
It was Drew who dared ask him of the wendigo. Children in our class didn't like us very much. Perhaps they were jealous our grandfather would take us hunting, deep into the woods. Perhaps we were an insufferable pair. Perhaps kids are just jerks. Either way, one of the older kids had tried to scare us by telling us of the wendigo that lived in the darkness between the trees. How it feasted on man-flesh, eternally hungering. An ancient evil that spared no man, woman nor child. The kid told us of how it would chew on our bones and drink our blood.
I was more frightened of the real live wolves we'd met earlier that day and who we feared tried to chase us until we lost them in the gorge we walked earlier. We'd never encountered them before. Something must've driven out of the deeper woods. And I think I know what.

My grandfather slapped us both for bringing up the Wendigo. Told us we had bigger things to worry about. That we had to man up. I'd be mad for that. But it's what he thought would be best. And at the time, I might've reacted the same. Getting bitten out in the wild can be a death-sentence. Who knew what diseases that mutt had carried. And even if not, infection was very much possible. Come the morrow, for all he knew, he would not be able to walk. If that were the case, we'd have to go out there on our own. He knew we'd have to leave him behind. Can you imagine that? Sending your own blood out there, unable to do a damn thing but die yourself? All the while hoping, praying, that they have the slightest chance of making it out? And knowing that you'll never know. Failing the ones you love is the most horrible thing you can imagine. Let me assure you. And I think it's he wrestled with that all night.
Before the sun rose again, we could hear the cries of wolves once more. Closer this time. I'll never understand how sleep came that night. Between their horrid howling. But somehow, some moment, I must've dosed off. I remember dreaming of teeth and blood. All three of us fell asleep somehow.
I was the first to awake. Finding my dream a grave vision. When I opened my eyes, it loomed over us.

"What?" Nightwing could hear his girlfriend ask, her voice breathless.

When the man continued. His voice seemed broken. "A beast. A monster. Half-wolf and half-man with long arms and strong legs. Claws, sharp as you would not believe. It's ribcage bare over it's chest. Red, shining eyes. And the antlers of an undead stag on it's head. I saw it's dark silhouette outlined against the night air and the thrashing rain as it stood in that very door-opening." He said, pointing. "With my sleeping brother in my arms and my wounded grandfather seated, sleeping on the edge of the bed, clutching his rifle; I was too paralyzed in fear to scream. I soiled myself, then and there. A boy of only just eleven.
I prayed. I begged internally. I tried desperately to wake up. It just kept staring in what seemed like an eternity. Breathing heavily. Once. Twice. Three times. But it seemed like forever.
And then, lightning struck. And with it, the frozen world kicked into gear. In one flash I saw the creature's undead skin and filthy fur. The drool dripping from it's sharp daggers of teeth. And my voice returned to me. My scream must have echoed in the mountains.

It threw back it's neck and for a moment roared at the ceiling. I'll never forget the sound it made. Low and rumbling. The sound of a dying animal, refusing to go. Our combined screams were enough to wake the dead from their graves.

It did my brother and my poppop. Drew was unsure of what was happening. Dazed. Confused. Still half asleep. But he joined me in my screams before long as the monster lunged for us. It's long arms and sharp claws reaching…"

There were tears in his eyes. Nightwing could tell. David was fighting them back. But they were there.
"He cut me." Schelde went on, raising his sleeve. The scar was thick and wide, just above his left elbow. Dick could see it had been a deep wound once, a long time ago. "There used to be a birthmark there, roughly the shape of crescent moon. Drew and I shared that too." The man produced his flask and drank before continuing. Rue in his cracking voice. "It should've been me. Sometimes late at night, I lie awake thinking maybe if I hadn't prayed and begged, it would've been. But it's nails merely scratched me as his claw took hold of Drew and pulled him from me.

He was petrified. Shrieking and squealing. I still hear him… Next thing I know the world explodes and I'm covered in blood. Poppop had the most angry look on him I've ever seen. The rifle smoking from the barrel. And the beast staggered aside, dragging Drew with him.
He tried to reach me. Drew. He did. With his free hand. But I couldn't move. I think he called my name, before the monster spun and used the same arm which's shoulder poppop had hit, to smack him aside. He truck him in the face, and poppop's blood landed across the walls."

The young trapeze-artist eyed the streaks of dried blood on the wall. The story becoming alive before his very eyes. As his eyes scanned the walls, they found the tiny bat once more. It seemed more and more riled up. It was twitching and moving it's wings more and more.

"That thing would've finished him off then and there." David went on. "Were it not that poppop unleashed another thunder-blow; blasting straitght through the monster's arm; spraying the ceiling. That was enough to make it reconsider. It howled and fled, but it took Drew with it. The last I saw of my brother was him crying, calling for help and for me as he disappeared kicking and screaming into the wet, cold, dark night. Though I could hear his cries for a long time still. I still can.

I just sat there, useless. But grandpa, he got up as soon as he could. Mad-eyed and bleeding from terrible gashes across his face, splitting his lips, he told me to barricade myself. To stay put. And with his rifle he ran out into the night. Only then did I get up. Only then did I regain control over my limbs. I ran out, trying to follow. But he'd already disappeared into the thicket. And fear grabbed hold of me once more. I stood in the rain, getting soaked. I heard far off screaming, but from where it came I could not tell over the rainfall. And than another shot rang out. Two minutes of nothing. And another. I waited, holding my breath. And after 28 counts of my heartbeat another, third blast. I waited for a fourth, afraid. But it never came. I waited for grandpa to return, hero that he was. With my brother by his side. But they never came neither.

When the sun rose, I left the shack. The rain had washed away most of the tracks. And any blood-trails that I could've followed. But poppop trained me well. The broken branches and plants were still there; trampled. I followed them to a cliff. All the while my heart was pounding and I was clinging to desperate hope; bartering for them to be alright. Lying to myself; saying I would come across them both soon. When I reached the cliff, however, the tracks ended. Two dozen yards down below the river roared. I backtracked, desperate to find another path. Poppop had to to have backtracked himself, trying to find another path. And where it split off, if I could find it, I'd find them. But it didn't work. I went back and forth six times before darkness fell. Examining every single goddamn leaf. And finding nothing.

And then it was dark again. I hadn't eaten a thing all day. Nor drank anything. And we hadn't had anything left. I felt miserable. Hungry. Thirsty. Alone.

Do you know what makes a wendigo? What a wendigo is. It's a demon of famine. Created by an ancient curse; eternally hungering for flesh of man as punishment.

"Punishment?" Starfire asked in a soft voice.

"Punishment." He agreed. "When a man hunger and thirst drive him too far, beyond reason; he may turn on a brother before dying with honor. With no food and no drink and delusions driving through your brain, you might do anything to drive the knives from your stomach. Even feast on the flesh of man. And should you commit that horrible sin. You'll do so for ever, unable to die. Unable to be satisfied. Drifting and hunting. Wandering these woods for all eternity.
I didn't want to return to this place. But I had no choice. It was the only shelter there was. And it looked like rain again. Part of me wished the monster would come and take me that night, as I huddled in the bloody sheets. Part of me wanted to be reunited with them, and to stop feeling this helpless and guilty.

But another morning came without it's visit. And by then, there was no hope left. I set out. And I still don't know how I managed to get back. But I did. It seemed like I was destined to live. And if that were the case, I vowed I'd do something worthwhile with it. I'd eradicate that evil from this world. Even if it took all of my life."

"Part of you has never gotten out of this shack though, hasn't it?"

Coming from anyone else, that question might've sounded like mockery. But despite her dark side and her sarcasm, Raven had a way of reaching others.

"Yeah." David sighed. "I guess that's right."

"David..." Nightwing spoke levelly.

"What, kid?"

"I need to ask you permission to fully examine this place."

"...Whatever." The old man said, leaning back against the wall.

"It will leave this place in more ruin." He explained carefully.

"This place is already ruin. Do what you gotta do."

"What is it that you still hope to do the finding of here, Nightwing?" His girlfriend asked, her hands clasped together. "Was it not you who said someone had been here before."

"Yeah. And judging from this mess, they didn't know where to look exactly. Maybe, just maybe, they couldn't find it."

Raven folder her arms. "Worth a shot." She said. "If it were Rouge or The Rat-Catcher, I imagine they didn't look with much imagination."

The bat in the corner was waking up by now. It's flurry of move caught Nightwing's eye.

"Yeah." Nightwing agreed, staring down at the Akoben underneath their feet. "The floor's still standing."

Outside, the snowstorm was raging. But inside, the titans found themselves warm with adrenaline and effort as they tore aside the rotten planks of wood in the bask of the lit fire. The akoben disappeared; mangled by their efforts. And from it's depths they pulled a small chest. Robin's heart skipped a beat when they found it. It was locked by a thick padlock, but that would not be a problem for long.

"This is wonderfull!" The alien girl exclaimed loudly.

The bat in the corner of the room disentangled itself from the roof, dropped down and spread it's wing. It's rapid movements caught everybody's eyes for a second as it left the shack for the open woods.

"Well con-freaking-gratulations, kiddo." David had a shadow of a smile on his wrinkly face.

"We're sorry about the shack, mister Schelde." Raven apologized.

He waved his hand. "Too much has happened here. Too much sadness. The fucker should burn."

"But… you were the upset that..." Starfire began.

"It should burn on my accounts. On my say so. Not someone else's."

Nightwing decided to stay focused. Holding the chest made his fingers burn with anticipation. Kneeling over it in the middle of the room he felt like a pirate waiting to open long-lost booty. "Starfire, can you contact the guys? I'll do something about this lock."

Already he was fumbling at his belt when David stirred.

"You hear that?" The old man asked suddenly, sitting up straight and agitated.

"Hear what?" The teen asked.

"Shhhh!" David gestured him to stay quiet.

Quick as a cat and ever ready the hunter strode to one of the windows by the door. Bowing down he fitted the barrel of the rifle through broken glass. His finger was twitching by the trigger as he did his best to study the gun. "I heard it." He said. "I heard it."

The three teens held their breath. It was hard to hear anything out there. But wasn't there something? The sound of snow being crunched underfoot mayhaps? Or was it their imagination?

"Come on… Come on..." David whispered. "Show yourself!" He yelled eventually.

"Whoa!?" The voice came back from the forest. It was a familiar one. And Nightwing was glad to hear it. "You guys in there?" Cyborg yelled back.

"Yes!" Raven yelled back, obviously equally relieved.

"Aight!" They could hear the cybernetic teen. "Don't do anything stupid okay? I can see you aiming that gun there David. Just me. I'm coming over, okay?"

The old sour-grape straightened himself up and grumbled something incoherently before slumping back to the bed. It wasn't long before they heard the heavy footsteps of Cyborg. First in the snow. Then on wood. Before long the door swung open to reveal his friendly, half-cybernetic face.

"Where's Beast Boy?" Raven asked almost immediately.

"Man it's cold out." Cyborg said, stepping into the room. "Brrr. Yeah, B's back at the craft. Parked her a little ways off, found a clearing there. Damn, what happened here?" He asked, noticing the utter wreck of a room. "Place looks even worse on the inside."

"Is it safe to leave him there alone?" Starfire asked.

"It's not that far guys. Besides, didn't want anything else to happen to it, did we now? One booby-trap is more than enough. You got what we need?" The cybernetic teen asked, pointing at the chest.

"Yeah..." Nightwing nodded. Slower for a reason he wasn't quite comprehending.

As his friend continued, the young trapeze-artist got up. "Good, then let's get the hell out of here." He waved all of them along with his strong, metal arm. As the girls and Nightwing took a step towards the door, David remained seated.

"Don't you need a ride, old man?" Cyborg asked, jestingly.

The old man waved him off.

"If you're sure..." Cyborg sighed. He returned his attention to Nightwing. "I'll take that if you..." He started, his hand outreached and his eyes falling to the little chest. They drifted to the communicator in his hand soon enough. "What are you doing?" He asked.

When Cyborg tore his eyes from the communicator and met his, Nightwing spoke more calmly than he felt. "Calling you."

For a split-second the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. Nobody dared even breathe. And then a voice boomed from the communicator. "Yo, Robin, I mean Nightwing, we just got the bird up in the air. 'Sup?" Cyborg's voice called.

Instinctively Nightwing wanted to shout: "Rouge!" But he didn't have the time. And by all accounts, he didn't have to. The former Titans transformed instantly into a shapeshifting, lunging blob. Robin stumbled backwards in reflex, trying to keep the chest away from the stretching, half-solid goo that was Rouge. His foot found no footing, however, as it stumbled into the hole they'd made in the floor. He lost his balance and smacked down on the ground hard.
By then the incoherent, formless mess was on him. Parts of it's body-less body claimed the chest Robin had somehow dropped. He hoped Raven or Starfire would come to his aid quickly.

Yet the first one to strike the shapeshifter was David. The blast rang out and Robin saw parts of the liquid elastic that was Rouge splatter on the walls. She roared in anger and spun quickly. Still without form, but getting there. And Nightwing could see the claw as it flew over his head. Yet he was unable to stop it. It racked the man seated on the bed across the face. New streaks of blood splattered across the wall as he flew over the side of the bed.

"No!" The three teens screamed in unison.

Finally the initial shock was settling and the girls were out of the paralyzing confusion. Nightwing tried to scramble from the floor. His eyes never left the hulking form looming over the downed hunter. He couldn't see David, but hoped he was alive. And that that a curse or bolt from Raven and Starfire would take the villain down in time. Or at least distract it.

But again, it was the old man that surprised them. Another shot rang out, hitting the settling shape in the arm; spraying the ceiling with Rouge's malleable plastic. The wound was quick to heal and pull itself back together, however. As the shape finally came into it's own.
It had been as David had described. Half-wold and half-man. Strong arms. Strong legs. Sharp claws. The antlers as a crown of the undead on it's head. No third shot rang out. David understandably froze at the sight of his nightmares taking shape before his eyes. As she'd have known he would.

She'd been in here as he'd told the story. Nightwing realized in that moment. And it was enough not just to startle him. But the rest of them too.

But not long enough. The green bolt and a dark shapeless, inter dimensional cloud hit it in it's back simultaneously. The would-be-wendigo screamed and roared. The demon of famine was quick to respond, bursting out of the cabin. Not through the door, but through the rotten planks of it's side. It's hulking form more than enough to splinter the wood.

It's dissapearance revealed a terribly wounded David. His face covered in blood, seeping from the three long cuts. His lips were split in half. And yet the worst part of that sight were his eyes. So filled with terror and shame they were.

"David." Raven gasped, rushing over.

Starfire came to his own aid as the witch bothered with the severly wounded hunter. His girlfriend pulled him up. He wanted to shout to go after Rouge. But a pang went through his leg, stopping him from doing anything but grunt.

Before he fully well knew what happened. He saw, through squinting eyes, Raven being pushed aside. Somehow David had managed to jump up, spry not only for someone in severe pain. But also for a man of his age.

He grunted something that Nightwing figured was: "Not again!" Before rushing through the hole made by Rouge. Hot on her track.

Raven was quick to recover from the push. And within seconds both the girls had pulled him to his feet. He wanted to scream at them, that the three of them had to go after David and Rouge. But Cyborg's voice kept calling from the communicator.

"Robin?!" It called. "Robin?!"

He picked it up and responded hastily. "Cyborg." He said. "Rouge has what we want. We pursue on foot. Track our communicators. Hurry." He hung up before the cybernetic teen had a chance to respond. One look he shared with his teammates. "Titans, go!" He exclaimed wildly.


His face was on fire. But so was every muscle in David's body. He rushed through the woods, seeing the far-off shape of the Wendigo dissapearing further and further into the night. Pushing aside branches and leaping over rocks and roots, he did his best to catch up. But the monster's legs were long and strong. Desperate, while still running, he lined up his rifle and pulled the trigger. The blood in his eyes didn't help either. Yet the big boy .44 magnum roared and shook in his hands.
It was a million to one shot, if it worked. And no surprise, it didn't land. But it did hit a nearby tree. The beast noticed this, obviously and redirected it's course. The old hunter adjusted his own course. Trying different angle so he could catch up and intercept the monster which was now running ever to his right.
It helped. It worked. At least it got him closer to it. When he saw it's hulking shape run to the top of a small hill, a few dozen yards away, Schelde grabbed his chance and sank to one knee. The butt plate resting against his shoulder, he lined up the shot. The beast seemed more like just an animal now, as it clawed over the rocky, small hill to escape gunfire. As it reached the summit, David's rifle spit fire once more. He couldn't tell where, but it hit the creature. It's arms flew open and it lost it's balance, falling over the top of the hill.

David's heart was pounding. He was quick to sprint again. He'd never been this close. He ignored the pain in his legs. The stabs of shortage of breath in his ribcage. The bleeding wounds on his head. As he rushed up the hillside, he spat the blood out of his mouth.

He went over the small hill quickly, and rushed down the steep, other-side. It had led him to a cliff. But he had no sight on the Wendigo. He scanned his surroundings, confused, angry and in pain. His breath was deep, frequent and loud. The grip on his weapon almost enough to shatter it.

He knew this place. It looked different at night. Different covered in snow. But he knew this place.

"Come out here!" He screamed madly as he walked towards the cliff-side.

The river roared down below, as he knew it would. As it had the last time he'd tracked this path.

"Show yourself, coward!" He cried and screamed, spitting saliva and blood.

He turned, the cliff to his back. How he'd not seen it coming in, he couldn't tell. But there it was, looming atop a boulder, not far off. Staring at him with those red eyes and saliva-ridden razor-sharp teeth that haunted his nightmares. He registered the metal box Robin had recovered being absorbed through it's plastic skin. But before long the outward ribcage manifested itself again. He raised his gun and the monster leaped.

The shot rang out before it's heavy built smashed into him. Right before he lost the grip on his rifle. He stumbled back and fell into nothingness. The hulking beast falling with him, down to the flowing icy waters below.
There was no fear anymore. That was the strange thing. The strangest thing of all. There was no fear.


Down the long corridor, the Batman passed many a closed, heavy metal door. In the beginning he peeked into every one. But it was always more or less the same. And the doors were always locked. Even if he knew it to be safe, he could not go in and check up on the patients strapped to the beds. Some asleep. Others awake and trying to break free with a maddened fury. Their bodies shaking and their screams escaping from the top of their lungs. Some were hooked up to giant machines. Others still were missing limbs, freshly sawn off if Bruce was any judge, telling by the spread of blood on their bandages.

Already he was sending the information via a secure line to commissioner Gordon. He felt bad about ruining the Gordon family's special night, but he had no choice. From here he could not hack into the Blüdhaven police department. Let alone the GCPD. He was the only contact he had that could muscle up the force tonight to not only bring down this hospital but also arrange aid for all these poor souls. One call from Gordon to the commissioner in Blüdhaven and the cops would be here in an hour's time. And he couldn't let them suffer any more trauma. He just couldn't. Not to save a family get-together. Even if he better than anyone knew what that was worth. So he sent the information on a backline through the signal he followed. It could get through. Even if communication with Alfred was impossible. It might take a few minutes. But it could get through.
He sent an apology to Barbara. Just to be safe.

With that inner dilemma out of the way. It was a matter of making sure he'd find Francis and his laptop in less than an hour.

Problem was, this underground 'hospital', or house of horrors which seemed more apt, hadn't been listed on the blue prints. Unlike before, he had no way of knowing where he was going. There weren't even any signs for those sick few who must work here. All he could do was follow the signal. And it was growing stronger.

He avoided the guards patrolling these halls just as easily as he did those above. Though he doubted their employment was on the record. More than one facial scan came back as a known and condemned criminal. Their gang-tattoos visible and easily recognizable on their faces and arms, when their sleeves were rolled up. These subterranean guards might've been more brutish in nature, but their intelligence and perceptiveness seemed lacking, to say the least.

Steadily, the hallways grew into more luxurious ones. And though all it's residents were still resting, he recognized a great deal of them. Black mask for one. His room filled with henchmen as they watched over their mob-boss as he slept in the hospital bed. Bruce had been wondering where the man had gone after the GCPD had finally come down on him. Three weeks ago he'd been flushed from his lair and chased through the streets of Gotham. The bat or batgirl would have been at the scene, had it not been that the Tweed cousins, Dumfrey and Deever, more commonly known as Tweedledum and Tweedledee had kept them busy. There had been more than enough mayhem that night. It had been reported that during the chase the masked mobster had been shot twice.
Part of Batman wanted to go in there, take all of the guards out and tie the villain to his bed. But the risk of an alarm being sounded was too high. And if the sick criminal mastermind behind this place was allowed to roam free, he would not be able to live with himself. So he stuck to the shadows. Even when he passed other residents he recognized. More than one shady politician and even the KGBeast and the Riddler.

By now the signal was growing stronger. The cries of pain and fear from the less fortunate 'patients' had died down. But now a new grunting and screaming came into being. And it grew stronger with every step he took towards the source of the signal. Both lead him to a sterile operating room. Aside from surgical equipment, this rather small, brightly lit room was empty, but for two people. Trays of scalpels and scissors and other sharp bits and bobs were everywhere. As were jars filled with green liquid. In three of them he could see patches of skin floating. Not just any patches. He recognized mouth, nose, and eyelids. He'd seen many horrible things in his life, but this still made his stomach turn.

A man seated in a chair and a butcher passing for a doctor, disguised in the stander blue garb, blocking the seated man from Bruce's line of sight. There would be no hiding from him, should he turn around. Not in this brightly lit room. But the butcher would find a hard time escaping through the only entrance in which the bat currently stood: frozen but growing more and more wrathful. The laptop lying on one of the trays was not even that big of a deal anymore. It faded in the pure fury.

"There now. It won't take long." The butcher spoke in just a hint of a German accent. He stepped aside, dropping another piece of skin into a jar. As he closed it up, his victim, still awake, found the batman. Most of the man's face was missing. Bruce could see the muscles underneath, red and eyes looked at him with fear and shock. Mouth without lips, he still gave a throated plead for help. It was all he could do. For even though his arms weren't tied down, his chest was.

"Hel'!" He screamed.

The 'p' was notoriously difficult to pronounce without lips.

"Don't tell me I must give you another shot to calm you down?" The doctor said before turning around.

Though the doctor hid it well, the initial shock was there. His grasp on the scalpel in his hand tightened.

"Francis Dulmacher." The Batman spoke, his voice building with rage. "Don't even think about it."

When the son of the nazi-officer didn't take the hint, Bruce raised his voice. "Put it down!" He shouted. The balding, four-eyed man finally complied. He looked quite well-kept for a man his age, the Batman noticed. The blue garb he wore was smeared in bloodstains.

"Untie him." He barked. "And undo what you did!"

"I… I… I can't." Francis stammered.

"You will!" Bruce threatened, advancing menacingly.

The stripped man's eyes followed them both anxiously.

"It's… It's not for him."

He grabbed him by his clothing and hoisted him into the air. "It's his face." He said. "You took his face. You'll give it back. Now!"

"Sure sure!" Francis squeaked, his hands feebly on the Bat's wrists. "I just… I can't without the propper tools. I need my tools! I need them. I can get them."

He lowered the cowering surgeon and brought his face close to his own. Even with the man's mouth-mask, he could smell his minty breath.

"Why don't you have them here?"

"I needed him alive for the surgery." The man whined rapidly. "It's easier on living tissue. I didn't … I didn't need him after."

His grasp tightened.

"Please don't hurt me! Please don't!" The man squeaked. "He's not in pain! He's conscious but he's not in pain. He's numb!"

The Wayne heir made sure to speak every word clearly. "Where. Are. They?"

"Just in the other room. We can go get them. I can get them for you. Just let me go, please!"

"'at'an." The faceless-man behind him begged. "'lease set 'e 'ree."

Never taking his eyes off the scoundrel, Bruce released one hand and used it to pull a batarang from his belt. It's razor-sharp edge cut straight through the leather strap binding the man's chest.

"Just try to stay calm. I'll make him set it right."

"I just 'ant to go ho'e." The mangled man cried.

"Just stay put. We'll be right back."

He pushed the mad scientist in front of him, towards the exit and manhandled him along. Before they could take four step however, Bruce heard the victim fall down. When he turned his head to the sound, the man was indeed on the ground, sobbing and hurting.

"'ake it sto'." He begged. "'ake it sto'!"

"He's starting to feel it." The doctor replied. "He needs another sedative."

The bat dragged the doctor back to the squirming man and found a full syringe a nearby cabinet.

"That is the one." The doctor replied. "It just needs to be a centiliter. No more."
He handed it over, saying: "If something happens to him; I break your legs."

The doctor sank down to one knee. Helping the poor sod up to his own knees and tried to administer the drug. All the while the doctor was saying soothing words that made the Batman feel sick knowing they came from him.

"Get hi' a'ay" The man's bare eyes filled with fear. He groggily pushed the doctor away.

"Hold still!" Dulmacher ordered. "This is for your own good."

"No!" The man screamed between other screams of pain. "No! Stay a'ay 'ro' 'e!"

"He's not letting me!" The doctor exclaimed wildly, looking up at the caped crusader. "I'll hurt him if he doesn't hold still!"

"Move aside." The bat spoke sternly, sinking to their level and grabbing the syringe from the doctor's hand. "You move..." He started.

"Ya, ya… Broken legs. I get it." The doctor excused frantically, waving his open hands as a sign of submission.

"Hold still." He told the fearful man. "Trust me." He said, reaching the syringe slowly outward to the man's neck."

Where he'd gotten the second syringe from, and where he'd kept it, Batman would never be able to tell. But it's needle plunged straight into one of the joints between his plates of armor in his right hand. He dropped his own syringe as he grunted in pain, and knocked aside the faceless man's hand before it could press down even further. Already he could feel the drug spreading through his arm and up his body. He lost balance and fell backward.

Tearing the syringe from his arm, he saw the doctor lunging for him; scalpel in hand. But a well placed kick to the face made short work of that. Yet he was weakened and had a hard time to struggle to his feet. A problem the faceless man had significantly less to deal with.

"Let's go!" He ordered, picking the doctor up from the ground.

They stammered out before the bat could well get to his feet and pursue. And in there escape, the doctor had grabbed his laptop. Rising to his feat, Bruce felt his whole body go numb. He stumbled on his feet and felt light in the head. Yet he chased after them both. An internal rage combating the drug's effects.

Down the end of the corridor he could see the faceless man dissapearing through a door. And at that moment an alarm began to rang. He doubled his efforts, storming for the room. He was in no fit state to take on a dozen security-guards. He had to end this quick.

Entering the room, he was half-expecting a trap. What he found, however, was a metal wall blocking off the rest of the room. And in it's middle a metal door with a thick glass frame on eye-level. From it, the faceless face eyed him. It was hard to tell without skin, but the Bat figured it was an expression of pure contempt.

"Decontamination process initializing." A female voice rang through the room.

He walked up to the heavy metal door. Already certain it would not budge. He tried anyway. A futile attempt.

"'at'an." The voice in the decontamination room spoke.

"Decontamination process initialized." The female, slightly robotic voice boomed.

He looked inside, seeing a light gas starting to flow in the brightly lit room. The man's eye's peered at him from between red muscles. The man injected himself with a bit of the painkiller now running through the Bat's veins.

"'hy did you co'e here tonight? 'hy 'ust you ruin e'rything?" The faceless man asked.
He didn't respond. Just kept staring.

"Decontamination progress at 25%/."

"'hat? Don't you recognize an old 'riend?" The man asked. "Look into 'y eyes 'at'an. Look and see. Yes. Yes. No' you kno'."

And he did. Those eyes. He recognized them indeed.

"Hush no'. 'at'an. Hush."

"Thomas." The Batman spoke. "Back to your old tricks?"

"'at'an." Without lips it was impossible to tell. But despite it all. It seemed like he was smiling. "Surprised to see 'y 'ace again? Or close enough as 'atters not."

"What's your business with Dulmacher? You never needed someone to get you a new identity. Nor a new face."

"Consider it a jo' inter'ie'." Thomas Elliot explained, the gas filling more and more of the room. "He needed to 'e sure I was as q'ali'ied as I said I was."

"Why would you want to work for him?"

"It takes a lot of 'oney to start up your life again. I' it's 'een taken 'rom you." He spoke innocently.

"And getting your hands on the medical files of many a gangster and crooked politician can give you plenty of opportunity to swap identities if needs be."

"Decontamination process at 50%." The female voice interrupted.

The doctor began to wrap clean bandages across his faces. Round and round they went, covering more and more of his face "'ay 'hat you 'ill, 'at'an. It 'others 'e not."

"Let me help you, Elliot." He asked, with sincerity in his heart.

"'hat could you 'ossi'ly help 'e 'ith?" The man asked accusingly. More and more Hush's bandaged visage became a reality. "You took e'erything 'rom 'e."

"You're a brilliant mind, Thomas." He admitted. "You could be a great man."

"I a'."

"But I can help you do the one thing you can't. The one thing you need."

"'hat's that?" The surgeon asked sarcastically.

"Decontamination process at 75%."

"Help you meet your fears and regrets, face to face. Help you see what you are. What you've become."

For a split second, the man amidst the gas froze. Then he calmly finished bandaging his head.

"'irror 'irror on the 'all." He spoke cryptically. Next he produced an electronic pad. "It's Dul'acher's." He explained. "Needs his 'rint." He said, pressing his thumb on the pad. "ut 'hat kind of identity thie' 'ould I 'e if I did not ha'e just the solution?"

"What are you doing Thomas?" The batman asked, his frustration rising.

"I ha'e to lea'e you no', 'at'an." Doctor Elliot spoke as he worked the pad. "'ut I'd 'eel 'ad lea'ing you 'ithout so'e ne' 'lay'ates." He turned his eyes back to the Bat. They peered madly from behind the bandages. "'rancis' side'rojects. Enjoy your ti'e together."

"Decontamination process at 100%."

"I ha'e to go no', 'at'an." The fiend spoke turning aside and walking across the room, towards an exit on the opposite side. "I'll see you later. 'ut you 'on't kno' it's 'e."

Bruce watched the man walk out of the chamber. He could enter now. Pursue. But Elliot would be long gone. The man shed skin quicker than a snake and would be untraceable by the time the decontamination process reactivated. Besides, he had another doctor's appointment to get to.


Raven rushed after her leader. His tracking skills were never before put to this kind of test, she reckoned. In a cold night without propper lighting, to track down a tracker. And yet the boy she'd known as Robin, now the man she knew as Nightwing, ran on relentlessly. He hardly ever needed to stop and find his bearings.

There was heavy breathing. Hers. Starfire's. His. All of them. And yet she could not tell what was who's. She tried to keep her bearings about her. To keep her eyes on her surroundings; to make sure they were safe. But she could barely keep up. Dodging trees and skipping over rock and root. They followed the tracks in the snow, faint as it was in coming through the thick roof of branches.

When they came to the clearing, she felt like she could finally take a deep breath. Over this rougher terrain, Nightwing seemed to have more trouble keeping his eye on the track. His sprint turned to a power-walk as he scanned the ground carefully. Starfire and herself seemed utterly lost to him.

Her hand reached for her belt, subconsciously. And before she knew it, her communicator was in the palm of her hand. In all the commotion she'd missed two of Beast Boy's attempted calls. And three of his messages.

The last one of which read: "You okay?"

Red-faced from the exercise and her hands shaking slightly, in part from the adrenaline and in part from the biting cold, her fingers moved across the communicator quickly. Be it slightly inefficiently.

"Fine." She typed. As they climbed a small hill, she couldn't help herself but adding: "Be safe."

"There!" Their leader exclaimed suddenly.

Startled, the half-demon girl looked up and pocketed the device once more. She followed the batman's apprentice's finger. It pointed at something shine close to a rather narrow ravine. It shone in the single ray of light from the silver moon hiding behind the thick, grey clouds.

Once again the three found themselves rushing. The boy Nightwing clambered madly across boulders, leaped over stones and dashed towards the edge of the cliff. The sound of rushing water met them head-on. All until the shape of the shining object by the dropp became sharp and clear. Raven found herself holding her breath. And judging from her alien friend's horrified reaction; she wasn't the only one.

She watched Robin grimly sink to one knee and pick up the Big Boy rifle. She felt his anger. His frustration. And shared in it. For a second she saw him mouth a curse he would never utter out loud. But she could relate. Many curses were flowing to her mind right now. And though David had been a pompous ass all throughout their journey together, none seemed too harsh.

"Rob..." She heard her friend start. But the orange alien reconsidered halfway through. "Nightwing…" She saved. "This is horrible."

Her boyfriend rose stubbornly. Raven watched him prance about like a bouncer on coke. His eyes frowning and staring down their surroundings. Willing them to change reality and show them a clue.

She placed his hand on his shoulder and worded a lie to soothe him. "It's okay." She whispered.

"No." He refused. There was no messing with his stern gaze. "No." He repeated. "It's not okay."

His girlfriend came to her aid. "It will be." She said lovingly.

"I don't see any other tracks." Their leader declared, seemingly ignoring them both. "Rouge didn't leave up here on foot."

"What are you saying?" She asked.

"Either she turned into something that could fly. Or she tumbled down with him, into the river."

"The former seems more likely." Raven spoke harshly, but truly.

"Could be..." Their leader admitted.

It was Starfire who sensed there was something more to his reply. "What are you the thinking?"

She asked, squeezing his arm slightly.

"That we might as well take our chances. If she's gone by air, we'll never find her. If she's down there, we might." His voice was rushed and dripping with urgency.

Raven allowed herself a glance over the edge. Many feet down below the river roared. Being able to fly, Raven'd never had a real fear of heights. Yet this scenery with it's jagged rocks and foaming currents down way bellow was enough to tie knots in her belly.

"And even if we don't, David is down there." Robin spoke, sealing the deal. "His hands were already typing on their communicator. "We have to find him."

"Dead or alive." Raven found herself exclaiming softly.

Her teamleader didn't hear or chose to ignore.

"I just told Cyborg to keep homing in on our signal." He said, stretching his arms.

They were quick to understand, grabbing his arms and lifting him in the air with their combined powers.

"Can you look for him?" The spikey-haired boy asked her, suddenly as they descended into the belly of the beast.

"What?" She asked him.

"Sense him. Can you sense David?" The Titan leader asked. His voice urging they had no time to squander.

"I'll try." She promised.

"Just find him, quick."

"I said I'll try." She bit back. And so she did. But it was to no avail. As they swept further and further across the flowing water, nothing came to her. All she could sense was their own mounting frustration.