Standard disclaimers apply.
GUIDING STAR
Chapter Eighteen - Search
When Robin told them that they had to be up early the next day, he expected them to be dressed and ready at the Info and Rec Room at seven in the morning. This was standard and Robin had come to rely on all of them when it came to it, which was why it also meant that Robin would be in the Info and Rec Room by six A.M.
He liked the moments of solitude, but occasionally, when he was lucky, Starfire would be there before him.
On the morning they were due to see Wintergreen, he walked into a bare Info and Rec Room. He found that he was mildly disappointed but he was cheered by the certainty that Starfire would be along shortly. She was almost always the earliest one up.
Robin made coffee and was glad to discover that Cyborg had stocked up on Eggos. He popped quite a few in the oven. The others would appreciate a quick bite.
The coffee pot was half full when Starfire emerged from the elevators. He stared up at her and he gave a self satisfied sigh. Every single time he saw her in the morning, he couldn't help but think: Richard, you lucky bastard.
"Morning," he said.
She flashed her crazy You-Can't-Ruin-My-Mood smile and she descended the steps fluidly, reaching the kitchen counter with practiced ease.
"Coffee?" he asked.
She arched an eyebrow. "Boy of Wonder, I know you could do much better than that."
Robin grinned, leaning across the counter towards her. He caught her gently by the chin and kissed her. He was pleased to note that it was the kind of good morning she liked.
"Yes, please," she whispered.
He didn't understand immediately. Her kisses tended to befuddle him and the words "Yes, please," said in such an unholy manner made him think unholy thoughts. "Yes, please what?"
"Yes, please, I would like some coffee."
"Oh."
She giggled. "Richard Grayson, what did you think I meant?"
"Apparently things I shouldn't be thinking." He shook his head disapprovingly at her soft laughter. He suspected she knew what she was doing to him. He poured her some coffee in a mug and placed it in front of her, guiding her hands to the cup.
"Beast Boy asked me last night if we were together."
He was only mildly surprised by the news. He knew one of them would ask eventually; he just didn't think it would be so soon. "Didn't waste time, did he? What'd you say?"
"I told him to ask you."
He smirked. "I bet he hated that."
Starfire nodded. "Like Haggis."
"So is he going to ask me?"
She shrugged. "Perhaps not. You would probably just ignore him if he does. Beast Boy does not like to be ignored."
He sipped his coffee. "Nobody does, come to that."
"But if you had to give him an answer… if you had to give any of the others an answer… what would you say?"
"I'd tell them to mind their own business."
"Ah, that is what I thought."
He affectionately pushed some hair from off her face and took her hand. "I'm not ashamed of you. You know that."
She smiled. "Yes."
"But you know how weird I am. I don't like talking about myself, especially to the others. It doesn't mean you couldn't talk about it, though. It probably sounds better coming from you, anyway."
Starfire laughed softly. "Well, I suppose they could figure it out by themselves."
"I was sort of counting on that. No need to ask; no need to tell."
It was still too early to expect the others to arrive, so Robin took advantage of their privacy to make up for the cold goodnight he gave Starfire.
Starfire was in the process of mesmerizing Robin with her seemingly innocent remarks about shopping for bubble-bath soaps when the elevator rang, which meant someone was coming up. The doors slid open but there was no one there. A few seconds later, the elevator doors closed.
Robin arched a questioning eyebrow and he saw Starfire concentrating.
She frowned. She probably couldn't tell. The subject was too far and too small.
Robin sighed. "Beast Boy, what are you doing?"
The fifteen year old green boy popped out of the upper right hand corner of the elevator frame and complained. He had been a tiny house lizard. "Dude, you're no fun. Being a lizard in the morning is great!"
Yeah, great for eavesdropping, thought Robin sardonically.
Seconds later, the elevator rang again. This time, it was Cyborg and Raven.
Cyborg looked slightly annoyed. "BB, you trippin'. Why didn't you hold the elevator for us when we asked?"
Raven made straight for the cupboards. "It amazes me how Beast Boy's nonsense still surprises any of you."
"Good morning, Raven!" said Starfire in her usual, sunshiny manner. "Good morning, everyone! Robin made Eggo. Isn't he sweet?"
"Like honey," said Raven.
Robin sneered. "Well, you got up from your usual side of the bed, didn't you?"
Cyborg greeted him with more cheer. "Robin m' man, you the best." He made easy prey of the tall stack of Eggos on the serving plate.
Beast Boy turned dog and sidled up to Starfire, sniffing in her general direction and then Robin's.
Robin frowned. "Okay, what are you doing now?"
Beast Boy retransformed to himself. "Nothing." He turned away and whistled, walking to the refrigerator as innocently as his bad-acting could manage.
Robin resisted the urge to tell Beast Boy, "Bad dog! Sit!" mainly because the others were already around.
Cyborg smacked his lips of the maple syrup. "BB, do we still have any bacon in there?"
BB did not look up from his task. "Go check on the morgue yourself."
"It's called a freezer," said Cyborg.
"It's got dead animal in it. It's a morgue."
"What does a robot have to do to get some bacon around here, anyway?"
Raven glared at him. Morning noise always made her mood worse. "How about getting up from your seat and going to the refrigerator?"
Cyborg scoffed. "That's a ridiculous idea."
Starfire sighed. "It is so early. Please do not fight."
She was, of course, ignored. Her appeals for peace, which was often, hardly ever got attention.
Robin shook his head as the chaos continued around them. Beast Boy and Cyborg were soon volleying "Is not!" and "Is to!" between them. Raven, apathetic as she was, managed to get a sarcastic word—or two—or three—in.
Robin hadn't realized they made this much racket at breakfast until he compared it to the days he spent having civilized and proper breakfasts in the Wayne Manor. This was probably how Starfire felt every time they got into their daily morning brawls.
Finally, Robin told all of them to shut up and get ready to leave.
Beast Boy, still a bit sore from the argument he was having with Cyborg, began to mutter, "Tell that to mister—"
Cyborg frowned. "Hey—"
"I don't want to hear anything else from you two ladies." Robin shot them a look and that was enough to get both of them under control.
Robin stifled his own grumbling. I swear it's like disciplining a brawling football team.
He led the titans to the garage and he immediately took the keys to the T-Car. He looked so put-off that Cyborg didn't even complain about who was going to drive.
The T-Car was not quite repaired from its last ordeal with Fang. While Cyborg had worked overtime repairing the car's insides, the outside was just beginning its trip to Wellville. There was still a hole on the roof and the putty swathed on the sides was still visible, but Robin hardly cared. If it worked, it was good enough for him. He turned the ignition and it started just fine. It would get them to where they were going.
Robin buckled himself into the driver's seat and waited for everyone to board. He tapped his finger impatiently on the steering wheel and tried to review the questions he would have for Wintergreen.
He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder from the backseat. He looked and it was Starfire. She had a small smile on her lips.
She leaned over and whispered. "Are you mad at me, too?"
He blinked before he let a half-grin ease back to his lips. He chuckled. "Well, you know better than that," he said in an equally soft tone.
When everyone was settled in, Robin set the car into gear and began talking to them about Wintergreen.
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Wintergreen's house was in a nice upper middle-class suburb. Front lawns were perfectly manicured, lusciously green trees lined the streets and there was absolutely no litter on the sidewalk and gutters.
They passed the occasional dog-walker and Beast Boy would bark at the pooches, just to ruffle their glossy and perfectly groomed coats. The adults were properly shocked to see the Titans cruising down their crime-less streets, but when they passed by the elementary school, the kids practically stampeded to get the best view of the car from behind the mesh fencing. They yelled "Titans, go!" trying to out-shout each other.
Cyborg waved to them and the shouting intensified until their voices faded in the distance.
Their reception when they passed the local high school was more subdued, at least at the beginning. Both Cyborg and Beast Boy went nuts trying to get attention from the girls and the fan-girls waved back, giggling coquettishly in their gym shorts.
The Goths they passed screamed "Raven! I would die for you!" while flashing a tattoo of Raven carved on his chest.
Raven was unimpressed but she did mutter about how boys and girls never wanted to live for her.
Starfire patted Raven's arm consolingly. "I would certainly live for you, Raven."
"Thanks, but you're not necessarily suicidal. It's just not the same."
Beast Boy smirked and began to sing the opening lyrics of Suicide Snowman. "If I had time to kill the world, I'd try. But I'm busy killing me…"
Raven glared. "Don't mock Marilyn Manson."
"He kills chickens on stage," said Beast Boy darkly.
"I prefer my chicken dead, actually."
Robin sighed. "Knock it off, you guys. We're coming up Wintergreen's street. Beast Boy, go on ahead and scout the situation then come back quickly with a report."
"What, you're afraid he'd attack us with a gardening hose?"
Robin turned on his seat, leaning his elbow on Cyborg's back rest. He bore his gaze down on Beast Boy. He simply had little time to clown around.
Beast Boy pouted. "Jeez! It was just a joke…" It was his turn to get a consoling pat from Starfire. He turned cat and leapt out of the car window, darting down the sidewalk towards Wintergreen's house.
"I swear, if I didn't know Beast Boy ate tofu for breakfast, I'd think he's had too much sugar this morning," muttered Robin.
Cyborg scratched his head. "Well, I know he keeps a stock of Jolt cola in his room for his caffeine fix…"
"How long has he had this substance abuse problem?"
Cyborg arched an eyebrow. "Substa—lighten up, dude. It's cola… not cocaine."
Starfire giggled. "Well, I think he's funnier for it."
Raven rolled her eyes. "You think Dick Cheney is funny."
"He is!"
"When a Vice President's answer to a tough question is 'Go fuck yourself,' that's not funny, that's sad."
"Well, I'd be quite miffed myself if I had a four year Vice Presidential term ahead of me and my heart doctor only gave me two."
Robin and Cyborg laughed, bad moods forgotten. Even Raven's lip twitched.
"Now that's funny," said Cyborg.
Starfire frowned. "I am confused, now. Telling everyone to 'f themselves' is sad while having a heart attack is funny?"
It was Raven's turn to pat Starfie's arm. "Clinton already holds the inverse of that statement true, and you know how it is with Republicans and Democrats, they hardly ever do anything the same way."
Robin and Cyborg kept laughing.
Of course, it was even funnier that neither woman was prone to making jokes of any kind. Starfire could barely tell a joke to save her life and Raven's sarcastic wit wasn't meant to make people laugh.
By the time Beast Boy came leaping back through the window, Robin was in a much better mood.
He arched a questioning eyebrow at Beast Boy.
"Wintergreen's out back in his garden, just as we thought. I heard he wields a mean hand hoe."
Robin shook his head, though only half seriously. "Everyone's a comedian. Titans, could we just go?"
They did.
Cyborg and Beast Boy sought their lookout points; Robin, Raven and Starfire stood just beyond Wintergreen's backyard fence.
Raven pressed her hand against the fence to get a closer feel of Wintergreen. She closed her eyes briefly to concentrate then she stepped back. "He's docile right now," said Raven softly. "He's not going to hurt us; he can't; at least not in his current state. He's physically stressed; strained; odd for someone who's just gardening, so I suppose it's his old army injuries pinching; plus the fact that he's not getting any younger. I'm guessing the British Army and Hanoi took a lot from this guy. There's an underlying current of ferocity right now. It matches his profile; that he's stiff when it comes to his beliefs and principles and protecting those he considers important to him. Right now, it's his protectiveness that's ominous. He's hiding something."
"Or someone, maybe?" whispered Robin.
Raven looked unaffected. "I couldn't tell. His feelings aren't specific."
"Perhaps he would be kind to a curious, blind girl?" suggested Starfire. "Answer some of her well-put questions?"
Robin knew what she was getting at. "If you think I'll let you walk into his front door alone, forget it."
Starfire scowled but Raven nodded. "Robin's right. This guy isn't going to go soft on a pretty, blind girl with a perky butt. He won't answer your questions. He has to be intimidated to cooperate and that won't come easy. This guy's got grit. Balls like dynamite. He was incarcerated in Hanoi; how do you scare a man who lived through that?"
Robin cocked a smile. "Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something." He brought out his communicator and contacted Beast Boy and Cyborg. "Ladies, we're go for tactic S.E.S. Mid-level. He's not the bad guy… yet."
"Roger," they said in unison.
Raven and Starfire nodded.
"Let's go."
Tactic S.E.S. was an interrogation strategy they used to get what they wanted when the witness was potentially difficult. It was mostly harmless, known to occasionally cause pants crapping. Its name, after all, meant: Scare 'Em Shitless
Robin was torn between having Starfire rip through the fence or having Raven transport them with her dark powers in a large, eerie ball. In the end, he decided that doing both would be quite the show.
He figured that showing up full-force would garner the best effect so he had Cyborg and Beast Boy join them at ground level. Beast Boy looked particularly imposing as a huge, albeit green, Bengal tiger.
"Ready?" asked Robin.
Everyone nodded and Starfire stepped forward, placing her palm against the fence. She concentrated.
Robin said he wanted her to create an explosion and disintegrate the debris. Showmanship was everything, but he was considerate in a sense that he didn't want sharp boards skewering Wintergreen unnecessarily, to understate the matter. The blast would take precision on Starfire's part, but she had mastered the use of her bolts through the years and her vision, or lack of it, posed no problem to Robin's particular demands.
She could easily comply. Taking a deep breath, her hands glowed and the show began.
The effect was about as explosive as Robin hoped.
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William Randolph Wintergreen; gentleman; dog-show contestant; gardener; former agent of the MI-5 and special missions operative in the British Army was delicately attending to his plot of rare flowers when a sound he hadn't heard since his days in the battlefield assaulted his ears and bombarded the rest of his senses.
A section of the tall, unvarnished wooden planks lining Wintergreen's property was ripped apart and blown to splinters in a fantastic ball of green, the color bleeding through the air in shimmers. It was quickly replaced by a spreading dark power, devouring the entire yard in its terrifying, void-like maw.
Amidst the smoke and debris, the intruders were borne through the gaping hole of the fence, ushering them like ghosts in perfect formation and settling them at the center of the yard.
Through the haze, a red eye glowed dangerously, together with the green energy that had blown Wintergreen's back yard into a veritable warzone. When the noise settled, a deep throated growl rose from behind the gray mist.
Like a demon, a green giant of a cat emerged, padding around like a predator watching the movement of his prey.
Wintergreen dove to the ground on instinct, ducking beneath his hands. He shook, but his eyes remained fixed to the sights around him. There was no garden, there was no house in the suburbs; only an attack. He was back in the jungles of South America; or maybe back in South East Asia.
When the dust settled, the Titans stood glaring at him. At the head of the formation was Robin, the Boy Wonder; taller than he seemed in print and on television. As Wintergreen recalled, the lad was only fifteen when he assembled these Children of Olympus to protect Jump City and its surrounding districts. Now the boy was perhaps seventeen, going on eighteen, and he had noticeably grown in height, bulk and confidence. The boy turned man could go head to head with ten raging bulls with a cocky grin and then calmly dust himself off after. His stare, though hidden behind a mask, could conquer the fiercest of enemies. They said he fought and moved like the possessed Asian masters of old; they said he danced to the melody of pain and death. He could disarm a whole squadron of men in five seconds and jump off tall buildings without the slightest hint of fear. They said he was human, but that was hard to believe.
Flanking him were the women; both otherworldly; both inherently an enigma.
Starfire, the Tamaranian, was tall and graceful; her unearthly beauty descended of the heavens; her wrath legendary for the power that fueled it. She could rise into the air and catch falling boulders with one hand, her strength wrapped in a deceivingly delicate and comely package. There were whispers that she was the Boy Wonder's woman; others said she was his protector. Either way, she was best not displeased. She was rumored to have lost her eyesight and her blank stare confirmed it, but apparently, she was no less dangerous; no less a Titan.
Raven, the half-demon from Azarath, was cloaked in shadow, her luminous eyes peering from a darkness beyond this Earth. She was coldness incarnate and her chill was said to penetrate to one's very soul. They called her a witch; they said she could summon Satan from the fiery chasm of hell and let evil reign upon the galaxies; they said she was undead, feeding on the living. Rumors told of men and women gone mad with a single gaze.
Wintergreen averted his eyes from her.
He flinched in terror as the tiger, the Beast Boy, clawed at him, opening his saber-toothed maw to roar. They said his true form was not the least bit frightening. They said he looked like a skinny little boy with green skin and hair, but his powers were formidable, and one would be a fool to take him for granted. He took the form of animals with deadly accuracy. He acquired their powers; speed from a cheetah; the rampaging bulk of an elephant; the sheer strength of a thundering gorilla; the ferocity of a tiger… and with it all the wildness stirred beneath, primal and fierce.
And finally there was Cyborg, the perfect symbiosis of man and machine; a one-man platoon fitted with state of the art weaponry and the strength of an armored vehicle—a tank, with a powerful canon that could think. He could see to the very core of his opponents with his electronic red eye. He could see the beating of his opponent's heart and target it. Death would be quick, but only if he chose it to be so. He had the physical power of the machine but his mind was human and that made him more dangerous than any robot ever made.
These were the mighty Titans, and they were in his yard.
Wintergreen felt his bladder go suspiciously weak, but he fought within himself to stay strong. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself that he been expecting them, whether or not he wished every day that they wouldn't come. He shouldn't be this surprised, but he was and he had to keep telling himself not to panic, that he wasn't completely helpless because he had a gun, however flimsy a gun seemed faced with the Titans.
But Wintergreen knew surprise was the least of his emotions now. He was afraid. He had seen what these so-called teens had done to Slade; twice. Slade had been his stronghold; his pillar of invincibility, and they had conquered Deathstroke like a common criminal.
He steeled himself. His dignity, at least, would stand firm.
His bladder constricted again but he fought to control it just when the leader of them began to speak.
"William Randolph Wintergreen," said the Boy Wonder in a calm but frightening voice.
They know my name! he thought, shocked. But then he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the kind of information he sought when he worked for MI-5. The names were always the most important. It made their targets feel violated; watched. He glared at them, but cautiously.
The Boy Wonder stepped forward. "You have a lot of explaining to do."
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Robin was pleased to see Wintergreen so nonplussed. For the most part, he looked shocked, bewildered. The man didn't know what to do. But Robin had seen flashes of terror, which was just as well. He didn't expect that Wintergreen would remain very frightened for long; too many days in the army; too many nights in Hanoi. The man, after all, had to have honed some nerves of steel to survive the British government, its army and enemy torture.
The important thing was he and the titans had gained a gaping lead on the matter of intimidation. Even if Wintergreen resisted answering questions (Robin wouldn't expect less), he certainly couldn't resist for long.
As the smoke cleared, he saw Wintergreen rising from his crouch, straightening himself and treating his gardening jumps like a ruffled Armani suit. He was already recovering, but Robin noted with satisfaction that Wintergreen's hands shook—though only slightly—as he reached behind him.
Robin was impressed. Bloke's got guts. He darted his gaze to Raven and she was on the move before Robin could call out to her.
A spear of void shot in the direction of Wintergreen's wrist. He cried out, dropping the revolver he had intended to use. Raven summoned the weapon, tucking it safely away in her cloak.
Wintergreen clutched at his hand, no doubt having felt the jarring blow of Raven's power.
Beast Boy lunged at him, sending him sprawling on his back and staring wide eyed into a pair of feral orbs and sharp fangs. The paws on Wintergreen's chest constricted slightly, its claws nipping against his skin.
Wintergreen was petrified.
Robin cocked a smile. "A revolver? You gotta be kidding me."
"G-Get him off me." Wintergreen was trying to sound calm, British accent and all, but the tremor in his voice was difficult to suppress.
"Beast Boy," said Robin. "Interrogate now, lunch later."
Beast Boy gave one more menacing growl before hopping off Wintergreen and padding to circle the Titans. He stopped pacing beside Starfire who began scratching behind his ears. He purred, but even a tiger's purr could be frightening. Moments later he changed back to himself, but even the clownish look on Beast Boy's face was not enough to make Wintergreen less wary of him.
Wintergreen hastened to stand, taking a few steps back before clamoring to regain his composure. "What do you want from me?"
Robin's question was simple. "Where's Slade?"
Wintergreen swallowed, eyeing them as he took a deep breath, perhaps to gather his courage. "I cannot—won't tell you."
Robin crossed his arms over his chest, tapping a finger a tad impatiently. "Can't? Won't? You have to make up your mind. I don't have all day."
Wintergreen glared. "What do you want from him?"
"And here I thought I was asking the questions." Robin's eyes wandered to the flower patch beside Wintergreen. He saw a most interesting set of blooms.
Alcea rosea, otherwise known as the Black Outhouse Hollycock; relatively rare. Most serious gardeners bought their seeds from the Underwood Gardens for the sheer novelty of cultivating the descendant blooms of Thomas Jefferson.
"Starfire, two o'clock, forty five degrees south."
Starfire released a bolt and a spray of purple petals exploded through the air.
Wintergreen gave a cry, jaw dropping in shock. "Do you bloody know what you just did? You—you--!"
Robin smirked. "Caused Thomas Jefferson to turn in his grave? Yeah. I'll ask you again: Where's Slade?"
"I refuse to submit to this—"
"I'll make this easy for you, Wintergreen. Do you know where he is? Don't lie, now. She'll know." He jerked a thumb at Raven. "And she hates liars."
Wintergreen shot Raven a terrified glance but his face turned haughty when he looked back at Robin. "Children shouldn't try to play with the Big Boys. If you were so good at this, you'd know the answer to that without having to ask me. Of course I know where he is."
"Great! But you don't want to tell us, do you?"
"Why should I? I owe you nothing."
Robin pretended to be distressed by this. "Oh, that's right. You don't have to do anything we say… but then, that means you're hiding Slade; harboring a wanted felon. Slade's wanted in ten states for murder one, grand larceny, destruction of property… I can't even remember how many other charges… authorities are just dying to get their hands on him, but they'd settle for his accomplice, at least for the meantime."
Wintergreen looked outraged. "My record in this country is impeccable. You have nothing on me, Boy Wonder. Your word against mine, you have the burden of proof—"
"Cyborg, did you get all that on tape?"
"Loud and clear." Cyborg played back the conversation of the last two minutes.
Robin's grin widened as Wintergreen's scowl deepened. Robin sighed in satisfaction. "Well, isn't that lucky? I'm sure you know that we can't arrest you, but I know a bunch of cops and feds who would be abso-bloody-lutely thrilled to get hold of this tape, if you catch my drift."
"Listen, I am not a criminal. My reasons for having been in MI-5 and the British Army are probably the same reasons you've decided to take it upon yourselves to form the Titans."
"Oh! That's right, you're one of the good guys, but I tell ya', for a good guy, you keep some really lousy company." Robin wasn't smiling anymore. He was not the least bit amused to have himself likened to someone as questionable as Wintergreen.
Wintergreen's rising arrogance began to deteriorate again, and while he maintained his gentleman's bearing, his eyes bespoke regret. "Slade… was not always the man you've come to hate. Before he became—this villain, he was just—" He sighed, defeated. "A soldier. He saved my life, at the risk of his own. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He had a wife, and children. Did you know that?"
Robin nodded. "Shocking really. He was a mercenary. Killed for money. Then he would go home to his wife and kids. I don't know what he told his wife when she asked him how his workday went. I'm betting he didn't say, 'Oh, the usual. Killed a couple of people… got swamped with paper work…'"
"You would not be saying that if you knew Slade before he became the madman that he is. They did experiments on him, to make him stronger, but it affected his mind. It made him evil."
"Bill," said Robin, deliberately choosing a nickname he knew Wintergreen would absolutely abhor. It worked. Wintergreen looked furious. "You don't mind if I call you Bill, do you? I don't give a fuck what you thought Slade was before. Do you see these people with me? They're my team; they're my friends. One of us is missing; she's dead. She was fourteen years old when Slade drove her to her death. The ones you see here: He tried to kill them and he wanted to make me watch them die. So tell me, Bill, if you were me, would you give a rat's ass how nice and sunshiny he was before?"
Wintergreen exhaled, his jaw tightening. "It is not that simple. You children have no concept of war and gratitude. When you're fighting beside a comrade, facing the reality that one or both of you may not make it back, you understand how the life of your comrade is just as precious as your own, especially if he jumps back into danger to save you. It is not the same as your crime-fighting exploits. In the wars we were in, we were just men. Nobody had superpowers; no one was stronger than the other. No one was more likely to live than any one of us. I owe my life to Slade. Many, many times, when no one wanted to rescue me; when they were ordered to desist, he didn't listen because the only thing he knew was that he had to save me and that I would do the same for him."
Robin was impassive. That was then; now was a different matter altogether. What Wintergreen was telling him was irrelevant. "That person who rescued you from Hanoi is gone. What we have now is a Slade who's even worse than Deathstroke. Slade doesn't kill for money anymore. He kills for power and he'll stop at nothing to get it. If you're going to flaunt MI-5 and the British Army in our faces, then you're going to tell me where Slade is, because he is exactly the kind of terrorist you would be in the MI-5 and the British Army for. Now, tell me where Slade is."
Wintergreen said nothing.
Robin frowned. "Go ahead and repay him by sheltering his sorry ass, but in case you haven't realized it, he would have been a mass murderer if we hadn't stopped him. Your principles are twisted."
Wintergreen frowned. "Do you think I condone the things he does? I have tried to make him listen to reason countless number of times. I've pleaded him to get help—"
"Well, excuse me. I didn't know they had group therapy sessions for power-holics at the YMCA."
"There's still a part of the Slade I knew buried inside him because he remembers me. That must mean something."
"It means even bad guys like tea and crumpets."
"Do not belittle my regard for him."
"We didn't come here to play civil, Wintergreen. Slade is a dangerous man. We were able to prevent him from succeeding in his plans the last two times, but he doesn't seem like the type to give up. He'll try again, and I don't know how many more lives he'll take trying to accomplish his plans. The next time he takes a life, it'll be on your head, pal."
Pain filled Wintergreen's eyes and he nodded; strangely compliant. "I know. All these years I've felt those lives bearing on me already. If he kills again, then yes, I will also carry those lives on my conscience. But I promise you; Slade will not be doing anything anytime soon."
Robin's gaze narrowed. He was growing tired of this. "Unless he's dead, I'm not going to believe that."
Wintergreen matched his glare.
Robin sighed, struggling with his patience. "You know, if you piss me off enough, that recording may find its way to the authorities after all. It's even better now that you've said you've been harboring him all these years. Somebody has to pay for all those lives Slade took."
Wintergreen's mouth twitched. His gaze took on a dark, menacing quality as he looked the Boy Wonder straight in the eyes. There was no response.
Robin went on. "I suppose compared to the guerilla-prisons of Hanoi, being incarcerated in the United States might not be so bad; not like your British government would care. According to them, you're dead. They could be stubborn, but even they couldn't bring the dead back to life."
Wintergreen took a deep breath, scowling. "He's with Rose."
Robin arched an eyebrow.
"Rose Wilson. She's Slade's daughter."
Robin didn't think anything else would surprise him anymore after finding out Slade had a wife and sons; apparently, he was wrong. He looked over his shoulder at Beast Boy, as if to accuse him of not having given him this information before hand. He hated being surprised like this.
Beast Boy frowned.
Wintergreen went on. "You couldn't have known about Rose. Slade doesn't know about Rose. Her mother was named Lillian Worth and Slade met her in Cambodia, after his divorce with Adeline."
Robin recognized the name Adeline, but not Lillian. Disturbingly enough, it meant Slade got around. Propagating his line so he could spawn minions, or something, he thought sourly.
Wintergreen continued. "Up until Rose was three, Lilli and her daughter lived somewhere in Thailand. It was where Slade met Lilli after all. Lilli and Rose eventually moved to New York. Rose has known about her father for years now, but she only got the notion to meet him a few months ago. Rose has been living here, pursuing that notion. She's… taking care of him now, in a secret facility. Her mother's connections are—well, dubious, but they have money and they could afford to shelter Slade."
"Where do we find Rose?"
A ghost of a smirk came to Wintergreen's lips. "There is a temple in the outskirts of the city; Cambodian. I don't know if you've heard of it. The temple's name is Wat Buddhadharma. If you take Route seventy eight to the Benjamin Franklin Parkway—"
"I know the place," interrupted Robin.
Wintergreen pursed his lips and went on. "The monks there know about Slade, but they don't make things like Slade's past their concern. He needed a place to stay, unharmed, and they gave it to him. The donation from Lilli, I imagine, helped a bit in convincing them, but they won't give you any trouble. They're a peaceful lot. You must look for Rose. Whether she will be amenable to you seeing her father or not—I imagine she wouldn't be. The irony of it is that she's been wanted to meet the lot of you, perhaps to kill you. Who knows what reasons a pre-teen may have; you and your MTV generation... "
"Well, she can't punk us, that's for sure. We'll deal with her."
"Don't—" there was a hint of panic in Wintergreen's voice, then he calmed. "Don't hurt her… much. Please, she's only twelve, after all."
Robin cocked a grin. "Well, if she plays nice…" He wasn't particularly afraid of a twelve year old, but he knew enough to be cautious. At twelve, he was a formidable enough fighter, and considering Rose was Slade's get, he wouldn't be quick to discount her. "You've been helpful, Wintergreen, however foppish you tend to be. Maybe we'll see you again."
"I most certainly hope not." There was no humor in Wintergreen's voice whatsoever but Robin found it terribly amusing.
He told Raven to get them out of there and they left the same way they came.
To be continued…
Closing notes: Just a bunch of FYI for those who might not be familiar…
Haggis is minced sheep lung, heart and liver (mixed with minced mutton, onions, roasted oatmeal and shredded suet) packed in a sheep's stomach bag. It is flavored with herbs and beef stock. It's a dish native to Scotland and while many lowlanders find it—well, too exotic it's only slightly different from the Philippine Bopis which I actually kinda like. You could see the bits and pieces of Haggis when the stomach casing is sliced open (or ceremonially stabbed, bagpipes in the background and all) because it doesn't quite change from what it looks, uncooked; except maybe for the fact that the blood has been steamed out of it. You could imagine why Beast Boy would hate such a dish.
As for the political jokes… well, Dick Cheney (a Republican) in a fit of temper, told Senator Pat Leahy to "go F himself". And then in another fit of temper (I'm assuming) Cheney had a heart attack, which he recovered from. As the joke goes, Bush asked Cheney to be his running mate for the 2004 presidential elections. If Cheney wins, he'd be looking at another 4 year VP term; the problem being that Cheney's doc only gave him two years.
Bill Clinton: Democrat, late night's favorite butt—of their jokes, that is—virtually endorsed "F-ing" by having his interns do the job for him… yikes. Be that as it may, his f-ing around was funny as hell. Recently, he underwent heart surgery. Late night poked fun at that as well (heaven forbid they hold anything sacred), but since late night is filled with Democrats, they admitted to being saddened by the news—after they made jokes about the respirator and the nurse being taken off him.