The Cutting Edge

by Legend Maker

A shattered city. A violent and merciless vigilante. And four teenage superheroes with good intentions and a greater challenge. This is the tale of life on the edge, a razor edge. Enjoy.

5. Run Ragged

Part 5: Run Ragged

"Ok…let's recap all this new information." Noel groaned from his position in his chair.

The Titans, not wanting to go to a hospital, for various reasons, had left when the paramedics had turned to other patients. Which were mostly cops. The general populace had fled the area and scattered far and wide when the battle had begun, and thanks to the efforts of the Titans, there had been no loss of life and minimal injuries when it came to them. For that, Noel mused, he could live with the pain he and his teammates were in.

His muscles twitched slightly, sending a new wave through him. Then again, maybe not…

They were now back at their hotel, which was now literally their hotel. After a detour to the police station to speak with the chief of police briefly, gather some new data, and pick up a new car, after the one Robin had given them had been wrecked, AGAIN (and for that they had gotten a clunker which was occasionally used for stakeouts), the Titans had returned to find that the few other guests the hotel had had not only checked out, but the owners and staff had left as well. Apparently, they had decided a Light City that had a Speed Force using vigilante running around was too much to handle, especially considering that he might show up at their place to finish what he had started with the heroes. So the Titans now had the place to themselves.

Not that was much of a consolation. Gar was in a corner, in the form of a gorilla, said shape taken again to help him handle the pain. Tara was lying on the bed, her ribs bandaged (her coughing up blood had been a great worry, but Nigel had not yet found any evidence she had punctured a lung. Yet anyway). Nigel was sitting in a chair next to her, ready in case he hadn't made a proper diagnosis. The chart had been set up so that all the Titans could see it…not that any of them were paying any real attention. They, like Noel, were in great pain. They'd all taken severe beatings before, but that never made it any easier.

"Mayor Geoffrey Tercero is dead. The fact that none of us could help him, or ourselves, indicates that what we theorized is true: Cauterize has had a great deal of training in his abilities, possibly years." Noel said, and winced as another wave of pain ripped through him. "This indicates a personality that shows great patience. So…I am striking Van Toolman from our list of subjects…for this moment." Noel said, pulling the picture of the coach down.

"However…this does not leave Toby Garigen as our prime suspect. No…"

Noel reached over to the new pile of papers that he had managed to gather, somehow, from the police station after the battle, considering how chaotic it had been again, as Chief Turnquist had had everyone running around double time to keep the city from falling apart completely from the latest attack.

"Based on an observation from Nigel, I have decided to add our non-chauffeur Detective John Chesbro to the list." Noel said, using the Shimmer to pin up Chesbro's picture. "Chesbro apparently ran into Cauterize for about half a second in the building Cauterize used as a catapult to send Mayor Tercero to his great reward. The vigilante was, for some reason, taking a break to put on a ski mask. The same ski mask that kept us from seeing his face when I somehow managed to surprise him. Chesbro was, however, unable to give us the exact time that Cauterize decided to do this. Now, considering his speed, it could have potentially been at any time, but Chesbro claims that Cauterize actually shifted to a normal speed when he was leaving. This does beg a few questions, like, why did he slow down to do so, and why was Cauterize putting on a ski mask to begin with?"

"Maybe in case we got his helmet off?" Gar suggested.

"Possibly, but this clashes with our observations. Cauterize is very calm and controlled. Even when he gets rattled, he's pretty reserved. I'm pretty sure he was upset when Nigel actually managed to grab him, not to mention me shattering his helmet, yet he kept it together. So why put on a mask? In such a state of mind, he should have thought he was untouchable, and even if he did do some preparation in case we somehow broke or pulled off the helmet, he could have either grabbed it back or run away before anyone saw his face. Yet he did not, because he WAS wearing a mask…"

"Can we please not start rambling? I have a headache." Tara moaned from her position.

"Ok, to get to the point…this so called observation made me suspicious. But what clinched it was the fact that Cauterize apparently tossed Chesbro into a mirror as he was leaving, and the breaking glass sliced up his arm. That was what Nigel saw. What makes me wonder…is not only was Chesbro not around when Cauterize was, as well as this strange supposed meeting of the two…but the arm that was sliced up was his left arm. The same arm Nigel managed to grab."

Brief silence.

"So you think Chesbro might have sliced up his own arm to hide the cuts from Nigel?" Gar said.

"It came to mind. It would explain where he was and obliterate the evidence in one fell swoop. Not to mention Chesbro is a police officer, so he would have access to a lot of the information that Cauterize seemingly has, and he has been said to collect knives. He might know how to use them as well."

"But Chesbro can't stand metahumans. How could he be one?" Tara asked, and winced, clutching her stomach. Gar turned human again and went over to Tara to check on her, even though it looked like he was on the verge of falling apart, literally.

"True…Chesbro has said he doesn't like our kind. But that could be an act. Or like I theorized with Toolman, he could be suffering from some kind of mental break. Turnquist said when Cauterize disarmed him, he told him that "considering what you did, be thankful this is it." That could mean some kind of inside knowledge on something…"

"What about the people Chesbro led out that caused this so called encounter?"

"Scattered to the winds. Everyone got the hell out of dodge when things went down. No witnesses that could back him up."

"Says who?"

"Says Chesbro. Or the notes he managed to make before the department sent him home "to rest". Turnquist had copies made for me." Noel said. "However, the notes weren't just of the scene this afternoon, but of the past several days. Seems Chesbro was doing his own investigations, and seeing how we don't have enough solid proof to indicate he might just be trying to mislead people…"

"Which denotes he noted that people might read his notes." Nigel said. Everyone gave him a look. "What?"

"What Nigel says, there was no way he could guess that people would read his stuff, so if all this IS just a diversion, he's either incredibly lucky or psychic or…anyway, along with Chesbro himself, we have Chesbro's prime suspect…Roman Fernendez."

Up went a picture of Roman.

"Roman also has several points to consider. He was last seen running for a bathroom just before the press conference and no one has seen him since. They are thinking he might have somehow been caught up in the mess that happened…except no one has seen him since, as mentioned, and the mess had cleared up. Now, he could have just been swept away in the madness, or maybe he was scared for his life and ran away…or he could be dead, buried under some rubble or caught in an explosion…or he might have been there all along, hiding in plain sight, so to speak."

"And working at City Hall would give Roman access to and all information Chesbro might have. Hell, considering who really ran the place, even more." Gar said.

Tara moaned again, and Gar and Nigel turned their attention to her, making sure that something wasn't happening inside her that Nigel had missed beforehand. Noel watched from his chair, ready to help if anyone asked him, but in the end it appeared to have just been a muscle spasm, and after adding a few pillows to her bed the talks resumed.

"Chesbro's notes, if they are accurate, indicate that Roman was not only an intelligent and driven fellow, but clean in a city where everyone with some power was on the take. And he didn't like where he was. He resented Mayor Tercero…and considering that Tercero is now dead, Roman is now Mayor of Light City…if he isn't dead…or the man behind the mask."

"But if he is Cauterize, wouldn't he have shown up by now to claim his new position?" Tara asked.

"True, but as mentioned, Roman is intelligent. He could just be lying low to give credence to the theory he got lost in the masses."

"It might also explain why he showed up at the morgue. He claimed Tercero sent him, but the Mayor can't account for that now, and it could very well have been a lie. If he is Cauterize, he may have wanted to know how much of an chance we had of figuring out his methods and such." Nigel said.

"Which brings up another point. He's a killer, but he is capable of mercy." Gar said.

"You call this mercy?" Tara groaned.

"He's right, somewhat, Tara. Cauterize could have killed us. Easily, as it were." Noel said, hating that reality. "We know he isn't a sadist, and if what happened is any indication, he's not a stone cold killer…at least not in matters that don't concern him. Hell, he even got into a swordfight with Nigel when he could have grabbed his glaive away from him and jammed it down his throat before Nigel knew what happened. He didn't. And I'd hardly call what he was doing toying with us…he was giving us a chance. To leave and stay out of his way. Much like the police force. He doesn't consider us an enemy, or from his attitude, an obstacle. For now anyway. But when it comes down to it, it may be the only thing we have."

"Don't forget his pauses." Gar said.

"Right. Its clear Cauterize doesn't have an unlimited amount of stamina. His efforts are tiring him out, and his use of the Speed Force apparently isn't fully picking up the slack. He may have paced himself, but we might be the monkey wrench in that plan. If we're lucky, this tiring effect will be cumulative…that, and his semi-mercy. Besides those two possibles, the best chance we have is figuring out who he is." Noel said. "Ok, summarizing all our info again…Cauterize is young, practiced but not experienced, has access to enough information to accurately plan attacks, is quite capable of killing but only if he feels you deserve to die, knows how to use blades, that Asian thing…and he wants to make Light City a nice town again. All these three would benefit in some way if Cauterize actually succeeds." Noel said, indicating the wall of suspects. "I think Chesbro would be happier if the crime in this town was considerably lessened via the deaths of all the underlings and their bosses, and I did get the sense that though he is a tried and true believer in the law, his cynicism on its failings might be on the path to hatred. Same with Roman, who isn't dirty and might want to explore his ambitions, noble or otherwise, without the people who owned his predecessors getting in the way…"

"That reminds me. I have a theory. Do you think Cauterize might actually be WORKING for Stephen Pierce?" Gar said.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well…yeah, he is supposedly killing all of Pierce's men…including that guy who was seemingly aiming a gun at us…too bad he landed on his head and we couldn't identify him…"

"I'm pretty sure I knew who that was, and I don't think Pierce would send him and Cauterize to the same event." Noel said.

"Yeah but…what if he hasn't told anyone? Maybe it's a housecleaning. Maybe he's tired of the people he has in charge and wants to bring in new people. Or maybe…" Gar said, thought it was clear his own theory was beginning to confuse HIM as well.

"I think you're reading too far into this Gar." Noel said.

"Well, if Cauterize isn't an agent of his, why hasn't Pierce been killed yet? If Cauterize wants to clean up this town, eliminating the king of the castle would be far more efficient then working his way through all his underlings and puppets. This is a crusade, not an RPG game."

"Unless he's going for a sense of drama and wants to save Pierce for last." Noel said.

"I don't think Toby is Cauterize." Tara said.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't fit. If he tapped into the Speed Force through sheer effort in his attempt to bring his former glory back, why didn't he just subtly use the Speed Force to cheat in his runs? It would be easier to get back his crowds if he was breaking world records rather then putting on a costume and committing murders."

"Yes, but he also might want to do the running under his own effort. Earn it back. Or maybe he thinks that the only way people will come back is if they have hope again and they won't have hope unless…ARGH! No more theories! You're just making this problem impossible!"

"Don't reject her ideas just because they don't match up with yours Noel." Gar snapped back.

"I'm not! I just don't think we need to start entertaining far flung crackpot…"

"Hey, what I suggested could be the case!"

"In a badly written pulp novel maybe!"

"Oh sure, and you're putting Batman to shame in YOUR deductions. I think he could have least landed a punch before he got trashed." Tara said, sitting up.

"At least I LANDED a blow."

"At least I didn't get put in a leader position because you interrupted…"

"GRATRAF UYGUY WFEYT!!!!!!!!!" Nigel bellowed in his native tongue, Blacktrinian, which was much like German, possessing a harsh, grating, and growling manner, which made it very useful in startling people out of petty, pain induced arguments.

"WHOEVER Cauterize may be, whether he be Chesbro, or Toby, or Toolman, or The Easter Bunny, or a White Hole's deceased corpse altered through severe plastic surgery and magic tricks from Merlin, I know damn well that we aren't going to beat him or even find him IF WE FIGHT AMONGST OURSELVES!!!!!!!!!!" Nigel roared, standing up and then sitting back down as his own pain gripped him.

"…………Point. Sorry guys. We shouldn't fight at these times, no matter how much we might like to." Noel says. "By the way Nigel, what did you say?"

"Rough translation: 'Guys guys enough.'"

"Right, right." Noel said. "Ok guys…"

"Hold it…" Nigel said, tensing up. "I sense something…someone is…"

"Relax, it's a friend." Noel said, as the shadows on the wall darkened, and then out from them stepped the purple-cloaked Raven. "Right in the room. You are improving my dear."

"I would say…OH MY GOD!" Raven gasped as she gazed upon the horrifically battered Titans before her, turning to Noel and putting her hand on her mouth as she saw his face almost entirely purple from bruising. "What in the name of the gods happened?"

"We ran into some trouble." Noel said.

"More like some trouble ran into us." Nigel added.

"About ten trillion times." Gar finished.

"Noel, Tara, guys…stay here, I'll get…"

"No, no. Raven, as much as you might like to, I want Robin and the others to stay in Jump City. We're stumbled onto a real murky plot here and I don't know yet if it isn't part of something bigger. We can handle it…for now. At the moment though, your healing abilities would be much appreciated and highly useful."

"Yes…yes of course…but…" Raven said, looking at her injured teammates and friends.

"Noel, have you thought this through? You know Raven's healing ability works on her absorbing the pain of the injured into her body. We're all pretty badly hurt, can she…"

"I know. I thought this through Nigel. I may be a lousy leader, but I'm not stupid. Come closer guys." Noel said, as he carefully readjusted his position. Three Shimmer lines flowed from his hands, two from the left and one from the right.

"The Shimmer, as you know, can allow me to hook up to your nervous systems like a computer jack. I'm going to link to your brains and transfer your pain to me, so Raven can…"

"Noel, are you NUTS? You'll have a stroke!" Gar said.

"Gar, this is me you're talking to. The Lord shoved a probe up my noise and yanked out a big chunk of my gray matter and half an hour later I was ready to go another round with him. My abilities can handle nerve damage. Now, if I have a heart attack…THAT could be a problem. Now relax." Noel said, as the Shimmer flowed out and inserted each end into one of his teammate's ears.

"Noel…heart attack?" Raven asked.

"I don't think that will happen…but all the same be readeuuuuuuhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!" Noel snarled, his eyes rolling up into his head as his fingers closed over the Shimmer and his nails dug into his palms as he took the pain of his three teammates into himself.

It only took seventeen seconds for Raven to repair all the damage Tara, Gar, and Nigel had suffered, but to Noel, it felt like ten years.

"GRAHUGH!" Noel snarled as he severed the connection. Blood began to flow from his nose in a slow trickle.

"Noel!" Raven said, floating over to his side.

"That was highly unpleasant. I don't really want to do it again." Noel whispered.

"Let me heal…"

"No. You just did three people, I can wait. Nigel…check my vitals."

"Excuse me Raven." Nigel said, slipping past the goth lovely to check on his current leader. He gave Noel a thorough once-over. "Vitals are strong. I don't think you're in any life threatening danger…but that was still very stupid Noel."

"Thank me later." Noel replied.

"Yeah, I'll thank you for your stupid self inflicted suffering, you guilt obsessed dunderhead." Nigel said in Blacktrinian as he stepped away.

"What?"

"Oh, I was just saying a personal thank you for your sacrifice in my native tongue." Nigel said.

"Oh. Ok then, then I'll tell you my suggestions…"

"If only I knew if they aren't spasms of your sure brain damage, you moronic masochist." Nigel again said in Blacktrinian.

"Excuse me?"

"Just asking an old god from my planet for luck."

"Oh. Good."

"Yeah."

"Oh, and Nigel, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Guess what language I learned by hooking up to your brain, you clorbag barbanook?" Noel snapped in Blacktrinian.

"…………………..Bugger." Nigel said in Blacktrinian.

"Your opinions on my medical tactics aside, here's what I need you to do. Raven, could you help with this? We could use you."

"If Robin complains, I'll see if I can break the world record for javelin tossing via his body." Raven replied, with just a twinge of darkness.

"Ok…we have three suspects, and we may as well keep Toolman on the "off chance" department because you never know in this world." Noel said. "Gar, I want you to try and speak to the suspects, or their families, or friends, or ANYTHING you can find. If you need information on where they are, we made a contact at the school, his card is on the desk over there. He should be able to at least point you in the right direction…I hope…" Noel said.

"This card?" Gar said, picking it up.

"Yeah."

"Elijah Versaw?"

"Yeah…wait. Gar, you have your holopin?"

"Uh yeah, in my gear. Why?"

"Elijah said something about his mother being sensitive to shocks. A green boy might be very shocking to her. Bring it and turn it on before you visit, I don't really need the death of a woman on my conscience."

"All right."

"Thanks. Nigel, I got Chesbro's address while we were at the police station. Go see him, ask if you can examine his arm. If he has nothing to hide, and he really wants to bring Cauterize down…he'll help. His dislike of us aside. Hopefully."

"Tara, Raven, I want you to go to City Hall. Turnquist has someone keeping things in order there, and all the police did have orders to work with us…interview everyone you can about Roman, Tercero, anything in regards to this. And also, keep in mind that Pierce probably has people on his payroll in City Hall. They might have information we need. So Raven…if it is possible…could you mind scan a few…"

"That's violation Noel. No."

"Ok, thought I'd ask. Ok then. What you can't learn from the people…learn from the files. If they won't let you see the files, well, Raven my dear, you think you can grant us access to them?"

"Now THAT I can do." Raven said.

"Ok. I'll stay here for now, organize and put everything in order, if I need you I'll contact you via the communicators. Good luck people. Let's show Cauterize that for all his speed we can run him to ground."

---

He watches them leave. They seem a lot more sprightly then they had when he had last seen them. That alien must be a miracle worker…or maybe it was something else.

Only one remains. Good.

Soon.

---

He wonders if they know.

He wonders if he can tell them.

He wonders if it will be too late.

For him, and his city.

---

No one answers Nigel's knock.

He feels annoyed. Though his journey across the city via the map Noel made for him has helped him work off some of the angry energy he still has after his battle with Cauterize, a lot still remains.

It was funny. Nigel had wound up on Earth because he was too weak, by Blacktrinian standards anyway, to be a warrior, and too soft and compassionate to be a doctor for a species that regarded most of its kind as cannon fodder to be used and forgotten. On Earth, Nigel thought he'd find sanctuary and peace. Instead he found a whole new kind of hell, one he never thought he would have ever been able to endure.

But he had. Because he had friends now. Close friends, who had fought beside him and suffered for him, seen him through misery he had brought to them and not left him when his alien ways had caused fear and disaster. Had he been a soldier, his comrades would have left him to die long ago, but the Titans never did. And it was that difference that had taken him, a meek doctor, and forged him into a weapon that none of the Blacktrinian elite could have ever comprehended him being. Much like the main character of a highly popular anime, Nigel, a third rate failure in their eyes, had risen to a level that might have surpassed the greatest troops his empire had created. All thanks to the proper situation.

And while Nigel was still peaceful on the surface, caring more to be a healer and a friend then a warrior, underneath him was a highly tempered core that he would bring to bear if he needed to. And with Cauterize, he not only needed to, he wanted to.

Cauterize had won the first time, but next time, with his experience and Cauterize's possible exhaustion growing after every fight, the shoe would be on the other foot…if Nigel wore shoes that is.

He knocked again. Nothing. And there were no lights in the house.

He lightly stroked his chin with his claws. Was Chesbro out? That possibility and its meanings flowed through Nigel.

Well…maybe he'd take a quick peek.

Nigel snuck over to a window, resisting the urge to go "Deh deh, deh deh deh deh, deh" and so on with every step he took. He peered in. More darkness. Ok, how did that infiltration tactic go…

Nigel carefully traced a small circle in the glass with his claw and then gave one side a quick, hard but precise tap. The cut circle of glass spun out, and Nigel quickly snapped his fingers on the edge as it whirled and caught it, slowly pulling the piece out. He reached in, found the lock, slowly opened the window, and hopped up onto the sill. He felt down to make sure he didn't jump onto the china cabinet and make enough noise to wake up the whole block, and then he hopped in, his claws making a light ticking noise as he landed.

He carefully snuck across the floor, waving his arms, hoping he could find a wall, and then maybe a light switch…

The small lamp snapped on, revealing Chesbro sitting in the recliner, aiming his gun at Nigel.

"GAHHHHHH!" Nigel yelped, leaping up as he tried to access half a dozen reactions, which all got jumbled together, so in the end he just fell on the floor.

"Be thankful that crazy outfit of yours virtually glows in the dark, or else you'd be one dead alien." Chesbro said, and lowered the gun, setting it beside him carefully.

Nigel sheepishly got back up, looking around the room. There wasn't much. A sealed off fireplace with several pictures above it, a small TV, a TV Dinner table folded and leaned against the wall…and a wall completely covered with knives. Some were on wooden backgrounds, some were on the wall itself, and some hung from ornate sheathes.

"Pondering my supposed guilt?" Chesbro said, taking a sip from the glass next to him. Nigel expected to smell alcohol and found he did not. Chesbro had removed his coat and shirt, and now sat in a clean undershirt, his right arm carefully bandaged.

"I don't drink. Dulls the senses, and I find that crosses are easier to bear then to try and forget them." Chesbro answered for him, sipping from his glass again. Nigel sniffed again. Grape juice.

"I see that you've recovered from the fight. Some kind of alien healing ability? Or did you clone yourself, or something?" Chesbro asked.

"I'd rather ask you about your injury." Nigel said.

"Is that why you ignored the fact I didn't want to be disturbed and broke into my house?" Chesbro asked. Nigel flushed with the fact that he had done just that.

"I would still like to examine you." Nigel said.

"I don't want to be examined. If I'm going to be forced out of an investigation because of some crackpot reason, then I'm going to stay forced out. Please leave."

"Detective Chesbro…"

"My mind is made up. Leave please."

"I am asking you as a comrade." Nigel said, spreading his arms.

"Those teenagers are your comrades, not me."

"I am requesting your aid as a fellow for the fight for law and order."

"I follow law and order. You follow something else entirely…"

Nigel suddenly snapped out his arm as his glaive extended, the blade brushing up against Chesbro's chest.

"You are now being given your last chance by someone who doesn't want more people to die and has a…!"

CLICK.

Chesbro's gun was back in his hand and aiming at Nigel's face. Nigel blinked. He'd never even seen it.

"I don't want to kill you. But I won't have any regrets if I do." Chesbro said quietly.

Nigel sighed and withdrew his weapon, wondering what the hell he had been thinking.

"Nice drawing speed."

"Second in my class." Chesbro said. "Leave please. The next request won't be so polite."

Nigel folded up his glaive and remained where he was.

"I'm not going to change my mind, and if you have alien brainwashing eye rays or something, using them on me will just prove you're nowhere close to what you claim you are."

"Why do you hate us Detective?" Nigel asked. "Did someone with powers kill someone close to you? Fail someone you know? Something in that vein?"

"Actually, before I met you four, the only time I saw your breed was on the news. This has nothing to do with you, as much as what your kind does."

"Which is?"

"Come now Scraper…"

"Scalpel."

"Scalpel, do you actually think I'm going to lay out my entire life story just so you can justify your suspicion of me due to the unusual situation that happened this afternoon?"

"….Yes?" Nigel asked.

Chesbro cocked his head, and then he actually chuckled.

"Well…that is a way to put it. Fine. I was sitting here in the dark trying to sleep because I keep dozing off everywhere these days, but it seems my brain is mocking me because I find I'm not tired in the least."

"Life is strange." Nigel said.

"Actually, I think its people who are strange." Chesbro said, and took another sip. "If you turn around, you'll see some pictures behind you. On the far right is my brother Michael."

Nigel found the picture: a boy in his early teens.

"He died when I was four. He was thirteen. Spinal meningitis."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. Next to that is another picture. I think you're probably smart enough to fill in the blanks after that."

Nigel looked. The picture of a family, Chesbro's. Four people. In the forefront was a smiling man and an eleven year old boy that was the spitting image of him, and slightly behind him was a woman, supposedly the wife, with her hands on the shoulders of another child who was staring soulfully at the camera. That would have been Chesbro, Nigel assumed. He was right: he did figure it out.

"Michael was the favorite?"

"The apple of my father's eye. My parents got married very young, and there was a lot of struggles. But to my dad, Michael made it all worthwhile. He was going to be everything my dad had to give up to raise us. And Michael said he was going to be too. He wanted to be president of the United States. Or so he said. You see, behind all my dad's dreams and my brother's proclamations…Michael was just another boy. Maybe he would have become more then that…but I knew him. Maybe more so then my dad. All he saw was the "going to become", not what was there. I think my mom understood it better…but she loved my dad and didn't want to hurt him. And then life decided that Michael's time had come, and he died…and so did my father. It would be a decade before he came back to us…and in that time, he did a lot of bad things, selfish things. I don't blame him for them, mostly. I blame him for not being able to move on like my mother did and focus his love on who he had left, me. But he couldn't. All he could love, for a while, was what he had seen Michael becoming…what he saw as his son. Except that wasn't his son, in the end. It was just an illusion. But he wouldn't let it go. So I was left to be raised by my mom and my uncle, who's over there at the other end."

"Turnquist." Nigel said, seeing the picture.

"Yeah. With my father unable to let go of my brother, they raised me. And he's why I'm home instead of working the case. He's trying to protect me."

"From who?"

"Take a guess."

"………Stephen Pierce."

"His two main puppets are gone Scalpel. Pierce is a dangerous man, but now that someone has struck deep at the heart of his operations, he's going to become even more so. And when men like him are scared, they grow vicious and lash out, even more so due to the people that threaten to replace the puppets. Rudy Bialas and Geoffrey Tercero were content to hand the city over to him, but now they're dead, and their replacements, well, if Roman turns up alive, don't have the same ideals. If Pierce, though we'll never prove it, was ruthless enough to send one of his goons after one of you with a gun, imagine what he'll do to us regular people. He'll want things back to normal, quickly. And since he can't stop the problem…he'll get rid of anything that might make it worse. Like the people who will cause problems in getting the proper replacements into power."

"Unless Cauterize kills Pierce." Nigel said.

"True…we'd offer him guards, except he probably already has every single thug and maniac under his command guarding his house. But as you probably know, that won't be enough. That's why I wanted to help find out who Cauterize is. But Turnquist didn't want me to. He still thinks of me of that small boy sitting outside the house crying because he can't get in because Mommy's working and Daddy is passed out on the couch. He tried to protect me then…and he's trying to do it now. I've annoyed Pierce once or twice myself, though the late Chief Bialas kept me from doing anything more, so he was content to ignore me. Now that Turnquist is in charge…I'm a prime target to warn him to back down. All right then. I'll play along for now. But tomorrow I'm going back in, and they'll have to fire me to keep me from doing my job. Even if it does involve keeping Stephen Pierce alive."

"You still haven't answered my question." Nigel said. "What's with us?"

"Ah you." Chesbro said. "My father couldn't love me until he let go of how he saw Michael. Until he did…well, no use repeating myself. Michael probably made it worse with all his promises to make my father proud. He was just a kid, he couldn't have understood…But I find that what my father did, a lot of other people do it as well. A lot do it even worse. Geoffrey Tercero presents himself as the only one who can lead this city and people believed him. Stephen Pierce presents himself as a businessman and a philanthropist and people believe him. Hell, Rudy Bialas presents himself as a leader and people believed him. Not because they have any confidence or faith in the person, but because the alternative…it's just too scary and painful for them to handle. Rudy Bialas was an idiot. Geoffrey Tercero was a spineless greedy bastard. Stephen Pierce is scum dressed up in pretty colors. But those who stand up and say that…they disappear. The reality of what these men are…most people can't handle it. So they believe the hype. They don't bother looking for substance. And as badly as these men do those things…I find that your breed does it worse. You put on long underwear and get in huge fights and profess it to be some kind of following of higher ideals and principles. Then you run off and the rest of us have to look at all the stuff you leave behind. I'll understand why people look at you the way you do. But when they look at you and see a symbol to be lived up to…all I can see is the front my dad constructed for my brother, and how he broke along with it. And if you profess that there is more, I ask for it…and you never produce it. You couldn't with Cauterize. So why should I think that you're any better then the rest of these people?"

"We're not."

"But you present yourself as you are."

"It's just the way."

"The way or the smoke and mirrors."

"I don't have to prove myself to you."

"You already did."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Decide for yourself." Chesbro said. He rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not going to let you examine my arm. This time, I must insist you leave."

"So when did this start?" Nigel asked, pointing at the wall of knives.

"My uncle gave me one when I was eleven, a hunting trip we never wound up taking. I liked the design, so I started collecting more. There's nothing else to it."

"Really?" Nigel asked.

Chesbro gave Nigel an intense look.

"I just told you my secrets. Now if you really want to disprove how I feel, you'll go out there and find the ones of the man who is turning this town upside down."

"How can I know you didn't tell me all of them?"

"You don't."

"I must wonder Chesbro, you seem like a decent fellow. Living in an intolerable place where no one wants to stand up and help, or no one can. You say we live behind a front. I have to wonder…would you put that front over you to see if you could do it better, to see what no one else wants to?"

"I don't need a mask Scalpel." Chesbro said. "I'd rather have a blindfold."

And with a quick flick, the lights went out again.

A brief silence.

"I see what they see in it." Chesbro said in the darkness. "There is a kind of peace."

"You think he sees this peace?"

"I don't think he sees anything except the person standing between him and it."

---

"All right, good. Maybe we'll find something there. I'll be in touch." Noel said, and hung up the phone. Turnquist was turning out to truly be a help: he had given Noel a call saying they had gotten a search warrant for Roman Fernendez's apartment. Maybe, just maybe, they'd turn something up. Maybe Cauterize's confidence had kept him from pondering that possibility that someone would search his home…

Noel reached for the papers lying around his legs and his eyes narrowed a bit as a slight gust of wind blew on them. He didn't have any windows opened…which meant…

Raven emerged from the shadows again, clutching three thick folders.

"Have any problems?" Noel asked.

"Getting them out, no, but all we really had to go on was Tara's hunches, so we have no idea if there's anything useful in it."

"She filled you in?"

"Somewhat."

"What's it like there?"

"Not as bad as it could have been, there's some police sergeant directing traffic. Since they have no idea where this Fernendez has gone, everyone's trying to figure out who's in charge…and that led to something interesting. Apparently the late mayor of this city has a safe in which he kept all his important papers. The thing is, when they got there, at least according to the Sergeant, the safe was open and empty."

"Who knew the combination?"

"Just the mayor, supposedly…but no one saw him opening the safe before he left for the conference…so it looks like it was opened afterward. By who, no one knows."

"Great. Anything else? And where is Tara anyway?"

"She's doing the talking. Still collecting info. She's pretty good at that, much to my surprise. Girl's come a long way."

"So have you. I know that teleporting here had to be taxing."

"For you? I'd cross the stars." Raven said, dumping the folders on a chair and floating lightly off the ground and over to Noel, sitting on his lap. Noel winced slightly.

"Oh. That reminds me. I'm refreshed. Time to deal with those injuries Noel. And since you were so kind to wait, you get the special treatment." Raven said, and kissed her lover. He returned it, gently, as she sucked the pain out of him and with it the injury. She barely felt it.

She broke after a bit.

"Do you know why Robin picked you to be the leader?"

"Only on the fact that I was in the dark on something."

"You turned on the hot water when Tim and Kory were having an intimate encounter in the shower."

"……………..Ohhhhh. That does make sense. But considering how the T-Tower is built, would my turning in the taps really cause the kind of problem that would be needed to make Tim so angry?"

"He thinks so…but the fact is, Tim spent so long in there that the hot water was nearly done anyway. Had you not turned on the taps, what happened might have occurred about twenty seconds later."

"When they were done."

"Who knows? Kory's spoken of Tim's…stamina." Raven said, as she reached under his neck and undid her cloak. "Time to finish the treatment."

The kiss was stronger this time, more intense. This time, Noel broke it.

"I think my wounds are healed."

"Shut up." Raven whispered, and renewed it once more, opening her mouth, letting their tongues intertwine, tasting each other, a taste that was familiar to her and yet so very thrilling.

She felt his hand on her back, pulling down the zipper, pushing her clothes down. Noel traced her hand along her back to her right breast, feeling the soft smooth skin. He traced his hand down…

Raven gasped slightly in her throat as he touched her in a far more intimate way.

What he did next made her do far more then gasp.

---

The lights are out.

She's in there. With him. Those two.

Fuckers.

It's time. I'll show them. I'll show them REAL pain…

---

In the darkness of the hotel room, lit only by very faint lines of light, Raven rose up slowly, feeling Noel as she rode him, gently, her insides on fire and liquid heat shooting through her with each move. She had missed him, these past few days, missed their conversations, missed their training sessions, missed their movies, missed their readings, missed their midnights walks, missed the feel of his face, and above all else she had so missed this…

"Oh." She gasped lightly. "Oh. Noel…yes…oh. Oh. Oh!"

And she exploded inside, each wave greater then the last.

Surely heaven couldn't be better then this…

Noel was caught in his own rapture, but deep in his head, buried under the more primal and intense state he was currently sharing with his love, a small alarm began to go off.

And as Raven lowered herself down at bit as Noel came to meet her, the alarm finally broke through the fog, enhanced by a slight, oh so slight, thud.

"What was that?" Noel asked.

"It's called…an orgasm…" Raven said breathlessly into his ear.

"No. That."

And Raven's own senses came to bear, in a way that even Noel's could not match. There was…

The door was slamming open.

"DIE YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!" Van Toolman roared, as he opened fire on the bed.

---

Beast Boy, though the name couldn't really apply at the moment as he now looked like a normal teenager with red hair and a freckled face, thanks to the holopin, rang the doorbell. It made a faint noise. Beast Boy wondered if that was just because of his position or the actual doorbell. The house had clearly seen better days, and though there were traces of effort in regards to upkeep, it was clear that time was winning that battle.

There was no answer. Beast Boy waited a minute and then rang the bell again. About twenty seconds later he heard someone approach the other side of the door, a few locks being unfastened, and then the door opened a crack and a teenage boy with glasses and very curly hair peered out.

"Yes?" he asked, politely but firmly, as if he wasn't annoyed at Beast Boy but would really prefer it if he wasn't there.

"Elijah Versaw?"

"Yes, do I know you?"

"Well uh…oh right, the disguise." Beast Boy said, reaching into his pocket. A brief flicker of light and Beast Boy was back to his green costumed self. Elijah blinked at the transformation.

"Oh yes, the shape changer. You must be in the town on that Cauterize mission."

"Yeah, Savior said you could help us. Did you…?"

"Look…Beast Boy was it? I would like to help you, but now is a bad time."

"Well I'll just be…"

"A REALLY BAD TIME." Elijah stressed.

"Could you at least give me some numbers or…"

"Mr. Boy, Beast, whatever, please don't take this the wrong way, but this time, I am afraid you will have to use the phone book." Elijah said, and then the door closed in his face. "Try tomorrow!" came Elijah's muffled voice through the door as he relocked it.

Beast Boy arched an eyebrow, and then he started stroking his chin.

"Well, he certainly gave me the brush off, didn't he my dear Watson?" Beast Boy said to himself in a terrible English accent. "Methinks I might want to see what was so preoccupating! Perhaps she is hot! Quick Watson, the game is afoot! Even if outside of a highly obscure Stephen King story I never actually said that…" Beast Boy said. He turned into a ferret and snuck around the house until he found a window open a crack, and then he turned into a fly and slipped in.

He flew out two minutes later, and when he returned to human form, he didn't look happy. But it was with himself that the unhappiness came from: he had stepped over the line and intruded on something highly private.

He shook his head. Guess he would have to use the phone book, and he wouldn't be pulling that stunt any more. He felt dirty.

---

You might think the actions and the reasons behind what Van Toolman was doing now was foolish, incredibly so.

But when you had been pushed all your life to succeed, only to have all your dreams stripped away from you by the uninformed judgments of others, to try and pick up the pieces and move on only to find that their judgments were not only ignorant but long lasting, of finding the lone place where you could still feels shreds of your pride, and to have that taken away as well by some punk mutant "superheroes" who were just in town to push people around and feel big until they caught their man, along with the fact that they had no right to be there in the first place…let's just say Van Toolman had had enough. People have murdered each other for far lesser reasons, and for Toolman to go on, the incredible slight to his pride had to be righted.

And everything was perfect. The two teens weren't bulletproof. They were in an isolated section of town where no one was around to see them or hear the shots, and they were right in the midst of fucking each other. Perfect. Now he would show them…!

A pity that someone of Toolman's admittingly great talent and drive could be so small and insecure to feel the intense need to do this, that he would lack the intelligence to think it would actually work, and the fact that he assumed that it was Noel and Tara that were an item and were the ones having sex when he had crept down the hall to have his revenge.

He was probably wrong on all three, but the last one was a sure thing, as he opened fire…

On the bed and the pillows on it, the bullets thudding through the soft material. So intense was Toolman's rage that he had fired six shots from his automatic before he realized his targets had disappeared.

"What?" he said.

He didn't so much sense what happened behind him in a five-sense way as he did sense it in a deep primal level within him. His top-level senses, as he tried to turn around, did pick up one word.

"…ZINTHOS!"

A bolt of black power blew Toolman across the room with a scream. He crashed into the wall, nearly breaking through it before he tumbled to the ground. But his fingers held onto the gun…

Which became encased in black energy and then separated into its component parts. Toolman opened with mouth to say something, except white energy lines slammed into his arms, legs, and throat, pinning him back against the wall.

Black energy plucked a sheet from the bed and drew it in front of the teenagers, even as another Shimmer line grabbed up Noel's pants. Within two seconds he reappeared, fury etched in his face.

"Well well, look who it is." Noel said, and then savagely kicked Toolman across the face (which was lessened somewhat by the fact that he was in bare feet, but not much). "The little man with the broken dreams. Trying to put your name in the books beside John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald?"

"FUCKERS!" Toolman screamed. Noel arched an eyebrow. He had to give the man who lay before him credit in the rage department, it never seemed to sputter out.

"Not any MORE." Noel said, kneeling down and seizing Toolman by the chin. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't…"

Toolman spat in his face.

The glob of bloody saliva, in a way, drowned out Toolman's following screams at Noel, as the coach continued to fountain rage like a volcano. However, it didn't even match the dark pit that was opening up inside Noel, that Noel was turning an inner eye onto, not even hearing Toolman's tirade as the coach continued to act like he was screaming at a student and not two teenage superheroes that he had just tried to murder, assessing the need and coming to the conclusion that yes, this was deserved.

Whatever Noel may have done, however, was lost as a soft hand suddenly rested on his bare shoulder. He flicked his eyes towards Raven, who was now back in costume.

"Let me handle this." She said, shoving Noel aside a tad as she looked at Toolman, his anger slamming into her empathic senses. She, perhaps more then anyone, could understand how reality could be so warped in Toolman's eyes. It was truly a powerful fury.

"Why did you just try to kill my boyfriend and I?"

"GO TO HELL!"

"Oh my dear man…" Raven said, as she brought up her hand to Toolman's cheek. "Hell is just a word…"

Then her eyes glowed deep black.

"LET ME SHOW YOU THE REALITY."

It was a good thing that the hotel was abandoned. Toolman's screams probably would have woken everyone up, and probably the dead as well.

"What a pathetic worm." Raven said when she was done, pulling herself up. Noel let go of the Shimmer restraints and Toolman slumped to the ground and curled up in a tight ball, mumbling and whining to himself.

"My darling…" Noel said, as Raven looked at him. "Please scan his mind and see if he has ever done this before. And while you're at it, check to see if he's Cauterize."

"Even IF this shit could put on an act that good, nature would have overridden him. If this bastard was your man he would have surely used speed powers to escape by now. But…stranger things have happened…" Raven said, as she put her hand on Toolman's head and opened up his mind. She sifted through it for about three minutes, while Toolman continued to whine like a whipped dog.

"He's not Cauterize." She said, removing his hand. "And he hasn't committed any murders. Apparently, what you and Terra did on his field was too great an insult for him to live with however. He really has a lot of anger issues. I'd recommend therapy, except I'd rather toss him in a cell to rot."

"We have anything we can use to do that?"

"He's hit a few women."

"Why am I not surprised…" Noel said, his eyes flickering with dark thoughts.

"Shall we take him to the police?"

"On one hand yes, but on the other, the LCPD have a lot more problems then they can handle…hmmmmm…what do you think the likelihood of him doing this again is?"

"I fired enough bad mental imagery into his brain to drive him half mad…then again, people rarely learn."

"Let's see if we can make this one of those rare cases." Noel said, leaning down and seizing Toolman by his head, using the Shimmer to yank him up.

"Know this. We could kill you for what you did and no one would ever know. We could do far worse then kill you. You will leave us, and you will go home, and you will go back to your mundane life, and you will never think, or consider, or even dream, of doing anything like this to us or anyone for the rest of your life, because if you do, we'll know. We're so much more then human, you fuck, and we'll know. And what we will do to you will take a hundred lifetimes for the human race to CONCEIVE. Now get the fuck out of here before we change our minds, you piece of shit!"

Toolman did so, scurrying off on all fours like an animal, going back out the door he had come in from. A minute later, Noel and Raven heard his car start and peel off into the street.

"I hope the bastard doesn't cause an accident. That's the damn problem with pulling the evil vicious teenager drunk on power and filled with inhumane cruelty routine: it gets results, but not always good ones." Noel said, slipping his jacket back on.

"Poor man. In a sense. On the other hand, fucking bastard. He should be counting his blessings we didn't have him arrested for attempted murder."

"Eh, the case would be too weak. I mean, we're Teen Titans. Why would he want to kill us?" Noel said. He looked over at Raven. "What exactly did you fire into his brain anyway?"

"All six Hellraiser movies and Event Horizon. I'm not sure what scared him more, the imagery or the sheer badness of the last three and…"

"Hey hey hey, Paul Anderson may be a hack and mediocre at best, but I LIKED Event Horizon…"

"At least he's better then Uwe Boll. He must have sold his soul to keep getting work…"

---

"All right people move in. Be prepared." Turnquist said into his radio. Normally, a chief of police wouldn't be leading a search warrant, but A) He was still Chief in personal assumption and peer respect only, not in official terms, and B) If Roman Fernendez was who they thought he was, the force might need his leadership. The sheer number of troops assembled was further evidence of the strangeness of this.

The apartment complex where Roman Fernendez lived was probably a year or so away from becoming the bad part of town at the current rate of decline, but at the moment it was a fairly decent building with only a few traces of graffiti to note its seemingly inevitable fate. Not like there were any youngsters out doing such things at the moment anyway. Hell, there was hardly anyone else out at all. Tonight, criminal and citizen cowered in their houses, rooms, and elsewhere, and if there was any dirty business going on, it was being done behind closed doors with an air of caution and worry. Amazing what one man can do to a city…but Garry Turnquist thought that in a negative way. He wouldn't deny the fact that the thoughts of men with senses of entitlement and dead souls feeling fear for perhaps the first time in their lives amused him on some level, but trembling right next to those scum were good honest people who did not see an avenging force but a being who commanded incredible power and a moral code that seemed to possess no boundaries.

And for that, even if it meant having to resign from this position and go back to working a beat while some ass-kisser with connections to the defacto ruler of this city, Stephen Pierce got to help in running this once happy and prosperous place straight into hell…Turnquist would take him down. Morals were inconvenient, maddening, seemingly foolish things…but Turnquist believed in them. To give them up would be to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Once you adapted the tactics of the enemy, no matter how effective and smart they seemed…you couldn't get rid of what had touched you.

In the hallway, backed up by a dozen armed SWAT members in the hallway and another 15 or so down the stairs, Officer Thomas Hoag knocked on the door to Roman Fernendez's apartment.

"Mr. Fernendez?" he asked.

No answer.

"Police Mr. Fernendez! We have a warrant to search!"

No answer.

"Ok, kick it down." Turnquist said into his radio, and Officer Hoag moved aside as two burly SWAT members moved in with the portable battering ram.

It only took one swing to break open the door, and every officer tensed, anticipating a blow they wouldn't see coming and wouldn't remember when they woke up…if they woke up at all.

But…nothing happened, and the SWAT Team moved in. It didn't take them long to sweep the apartment.

"All clear!" came the reply over the radio, and the officers breathed a sigh of relief.

"Chief, you better come up here, you might wanna see this." Came another voice on the radio.

"On my way up." Turnquist replied, and stepped out of the car he had been seated in and headed for the apartment. It was a struggle getting up the stairs, what with all the SWAT people in their bulky battle armor, and Turnquist was sweating slightly as he made his way into the apartment. The first two rooms, a living room and kitchen, looked fairly normal.

Then he stepped into the other room, and Turnquist felt his blood run cold.

It wasn't a very large room, and it was made even smaller by the sheer amount of paper crammed into it. That wasn't so horrifying.

What was horrifying was one whole side of the wall was covered with a blown up map of Light City…and that there was a great deal of drawing on the map, in several colored markers. One color, green, circled the police station, the hospitals, and the morgue. Another one, orange, circled City Hall, Stephen's Pierce's house, and the chemical factories at the edge of Light City.

And the last, dark red, circled several random areas…or so it seemed. Because Turnquist knew those areas intimately. It was where crime was a severe problem, rather then just a problem.

And areas that had felt Cauterize's touch.

"Huh. Nice of the bastard to lay it all out for us." One of the SWAT members said.

"That's not proof positive soldier. Get me a blade or a costume and then we can utterly assume his guilt." Turnquist said.

"Sir, there has to be thousands of pages here. Look." The SWAT member said, indicating a pile on the desk. Turnquist walked over to it and examined the top sheet.

It was about the late Mayor Tercero, and it appeared to be printed from the local library's microfilm. Written in the sidelines was a chicken scratch scrawl that Turnquist couldn't read properly, and the words he could read made no real sense.

Until he kept looking through the papers, and found more and more of the same. And seeing them all allowed a clear picture to emerge: it was an attempt to piece together a whole bunch of odds and ends that, all added up, painted a pretty damning portrait of the late Mayor. True, a lot of people KNEW that, but there was a certain potency to see it in writing, and in so much detail.

Turnquist spent fifteen minutes in the room, going over stuff. There was even more things, including two scrapbooks, about Stephen Pierce, as well as several minor crime lords. Another pile held a long list of theorized and proven suspects of the people on the take in City Hall and in the police station. Turnquist frowned as he came across a few names in the department that he had held strong suspicions about himself…as well as bank records and various other documents that informed him that his suspicions had been correct…if they were accurate. And on and on…

"My lord. This guy was obsessed." Someone said.

"Hell of a hobby." Said another.

"All right, all right, start boxing this up." Turnquist said, and several officers groaned. He walked out of the document room…no, more like a war room. It certainly looked like a place that could be used as a staging area for the reign of terror Cauterize had begun. And even if Roman WASN'T Cauterize, it certainly showed that he could be working with him…

"Chief." Said another officer. "Found this in a drawer next to the bed."
What the officer had found was pornographic magazines, four in all. With a common theme. Turnquist slipped on gloves and began to examine them.

"Oriental Beauties…Oriental Beauties…Asian Eighteen…Shaved Asians…" Turnquist said. There was something funny about the way he read off the titles, even though his voice was dry and contained no humor. "These were the only ones?"

"Yes sir."

"Um….how can I phrase this…"

"They don't appear to be heavily…used sir. At least not from what we can tell."

"Still more then I wanted to here. Ok, bag them."

"Um, sir…"

"We may yet need DNA officer." Turnquist said. The man looked faintly disturbed as he took the magazines, holding them much more tenuously now.

"Anyone find anything else?" Turnquist asked. The ripple of answers only brought him a small black book, a ledger. It appeared to be random reminders of various things going back the past four months. Turnquist looked through it, but there was nothing about killings or attacks. True, he supposed the book could be in code…but that wasn't his job.

But that was it. The search, despite literally turning everything upside down and inside out, revealed no costumes, no blades, no equipment or devices for making such things.

Still…considering Cauterize's speed, he could literally have another stronghold on the other side of the country, or the world. And Turnquist had to admit, the "war room" looked pretty bad.

Then again, with his speed, was hard would it be…

No. The room wasn't just slapped together. It had looked…lived in. Someone had spent a lot of time in there, and that was something you couldn't fake.

Maybe.

Who knew with metahumans?

Turnquist hadn't had a lot of doubts in his life, and the ones he had annoyed him greatly. This was one of them, as he tried to consider the mysteries of people with superpowers…

He looked through the book again. Meetings, appointments, visits to his mother…

Something caught his eye this time. Roman had apparently visited Light City High at least once a month for the past eight months. Didn't those Titans have a teenage suspect or two? Turnquist pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number he had been given.

No answer at the hotel, but Turnquist had another number, a pre-paid cell. He called that one.

"Savior." Said a voice on the other end. Turnquist winced a tad. The white-haired leader of the four seemed like a good egg, but his name was SO pretentious…

"Turnquist here."

"Hello Chief. What's going on?"

Turnquist filled Savior in on what he had found at Roman's apartment, including the entries in the ledger.

"I admit that does sound damning, but it's also highly circumstantial." Savior said.

"Unfortunately. Didn't you have a few suspects at the high school?"

"One now. Toby Garigen."

"I remember him. The track runner. Hmmmmm…"

"The two could be colluding. Roman points the way and Toby strikes. Assuming a few things of course."

"Maybe I should put a watch on him."

"If Toby is Cauterize, I doubt it would do any good. He moves so fast that he could literally run past any searchers and they would never see him, and we can't have people jumping at every gust of wind…"

"Sir, there's a girl here to see you." A female officer said.

"Busy. In a moment."

"She was a unusual girl sir."

"How so?"

"She's floating outside the window on a rock."

"Oh. Let her in, but be careful she doesn't touch anything."

"Something wrong?" Savior's voice was saying.

"One of yours, the blonde."

"Terra. Let me speak to her."

Terra had entered the room and had made her way over to Turnquist. Turnquist didn't think the frail girl looked like much, but then again, she could supposedly command the earth to do anything. Not bad, if it was true.

"Your boss on the phone. He wants to talk to you." Turnquist said, handing the phone over.

"Hello?" Terra said.

"Terra, we've totally scratched Toolman as a suspect, just so you know. The chief has more information for you. After he's filled you in, head back to the hotel. We need to form a new plan."

"Where are you?"

"Back at the City Hall."

"I was just there!"

"And I wanted more information. No offense."

"None taken." Terra said sarcastically, and tossed the phone back to Turnquist, feeling secretly pleased that she had surprised the police chief a bit with the action.

"Tell Terra what you told me, if you can. I'm doing a second sweep of City Hall. I'll call you if I find anything important. Until then, could you not make any moves if possible…"

"Kid, this is my city. I've already issued an arrest warrant for Roman Fernendez."

"Fine. But be careful. And not just if Roman is Cauterize. From what I've heard, there are some mighty sensitive toes to tread on around here."

"No kidding." Turnquist said, and hung up. He again re-iterated what he had told Savior to Terra, who crossed her arms and listened intently.

"Your old friend Chesbro had a lot of notes on Roman. You think the deputy could be it too?" Terra asked.

"I don't know with you people. Most of your life is hiding behind one lie or another."

"Yes, maybe. But from what I've seen, I'm not the only one that may be hiding behind a lie. And I may not be the one who has to." Terra said, and left.

Turnquist watched the girl leave.

So the teenagers were having their own suspicions.

Damn it. He had hoped to keep this private.

The alternative didn't really appeal to him.

---

Terra walked up to the window, stepped on the frame, and leapt out. Her rock swept up from the ground and she landed, knees bending slightly. She let the rock lift her up towards the cloud-covered sky.

And in the shadows of the building next to the one Terra had left, Cauterize stepped briefly from the deep shadow, watching the girl fly off. He glanced down at the window she had come out of, looking at the figures moving within.

"Hmmmm." Cauterize said.

And then with a brief burst of wind, he was gone as well.

---

"Terra's being briefed, better check in with the others." Savior said on the roof of City Hall, as he flipped his cell phone closed, clipped it on his belt, and unclipped his communicator. He dialed Beast Boy first.

"Beast Boy here."

"BB, it's Savior. What's going on?"

"Elijah was a bust, he had more pressing business. Really. I went to the Garigen house, but Toby was out. His mom was rude to me, acting like I was the spawn of Satan to even CONSIDER her boy could be Cauterize."

"Those Columbine kids had clueless parents too. Did you locate Toby?"

"Yeah, about a mile and a half away, doing his training. He wasn't much better. He didn't have any idea what I was talking about with Speed Forces and attack plans, but then again, I don't have a built in lie detector. He seemed very anxious to get on with his run, even pulled out some TV show nonsense asking if I was charging him with anything. I let him go and followed him for a bit, but all he did was run. I think. I'm going to check Toolman…"

"Negative on Toolman. I have airtight evidence that he isn't Cauterize. Leave him alone."

"Uh…if you say so Savior, but are you sure about that airtightness?"

"I'd stake my heart on it." Savior said, glancing over to Raven, who gave him a slight smile. "Besides, if I'm wrong, Toolman is such a well trained actor who planned so well he DESERVES to beat us."

"Don't turn us into Jinx, as Starfire would say Semi-Leader."

"Point. Well, all things considered, head back to the hotel. I'm going to check in with Scalpel and see if anything has developed there, and do a thing or two. Should be back within the hour. If you can, try and review my notes."

"Awwww man…"

"That wasn't an order Beast Boy, but it would be very helpful."

"If you say so N-"

"DON'T USE REAL NAMES IN THE FIELD." Savior snapped tersely.

"Savior, I'm on a fifty story building's radio antenna, who could be listening?"

"Now who is risking us being transmogrified into Jinx?" Savior replied, and cut the connection. He dialed up Scalpel.

"Qwertyuiop." Scalpel said in his snarling native language. It was code that Nigel used after an ugly incident involving a hacked communicator and events that none of them really wanted to remember.

"Dosssa datto top." Savior replied. His reply was not in Blacktrinian, but in Tamaranean, Starfire's language, and was basically him saying "I'm screwed." It was a fairly tricky system, but it worked: anyone saying anything else would result in Nigel immediately tracing the communication to see if everything was shipshape.

"What is the word?" Scalpel asked.

"Some interesting things. I'll tell you when we meet. What happened with Chesbro?"

"He refused to let me examine him. Apparently his innate prejudice couldn't overwhelm the benefits of us eliminating him as a suspect."

"Unless he thought that the examination wouldn't bring elimination, but that is neither here nor there for now. Where are you?"

"Since he wouldn't let me check his arm, I decided to check the place where he supposedly injured it. I'm there now."

"Any police?"

"None."

"That figures. Well, what they won't know doesn't hurt them, I suppose. When you're done head back to the hotel. Anything else?"

"No sir."

"All right then. Savior out." Savior said, turning off the communicator.

"You're really getting into this leader thing." Raven commented.

"Yes, and if what I experienced here is the usual indication of the life as such, I wouldn't take it from Robin if he tortured me." Savior said, latching the Shimmer onto the roof and stepping off the edge as he expertly swung into the nearest window and scared the living hell out of two secretaries. "Relax, I'm on your side. Maybe." Savior said, leaving the room. The girls had no sooner started to relax when Raven flew in after Savior, which made them scream a bit more

"Sergeant Robinson?" Savior asked to a brown haired and bearded man who didn't seem much older then 20 and was sitting at a desk conversing with three people, even though he didn't seem much to care if it was the Sergeant or not as he just kept on walking.

"Uh, yes…um, hey!" Robinson said as Savior past. "Just what are you doing?"

"Another search. If you have a problem, call your chief." Savior said, tossing Robinson the cell phone. "Which one is Roman Fernendez's office?"

"Um, the one at the end of the hall, but it's…" Robinson began, as Savior reached the door and grabbed the knob. The door didn't open, and Savior rattled the knob for a second before he seemed to accept this.

"It's locked." Robinson said.

Savior gave the policeman a wry look, and then the Shimmer shot out, pierced into the hinges, and pulled the door off its frame.

"Now it's unlocked." Savior said as he laid the door against the wall and walked in, switching on the light. The first glanced revealed a neat office, with nothing out of place…or so it seemed. Savior would decide, as he began rummaging.

"Hey!" Robinson said at the doorframe, and then looked at Raven who had walked up next to him. "Is he always like this?"

"No, he's actually being nice today. Normally he would have thrown the door across the hall and seen how many people he could decapitate." Raven said, deadpan. The officer's sudden alarmed look made it clear her joke had not been perceived as such. Adults. We go through hell a hundred times and they still think we'll try and take over the world the second their back is turned.

"Are there any other records we could examine?" Raven asked him.

"I don't see what you could have missed the first time you were here young lady, excluding this…I guess the Chief must have found something…"

"Ahem. Other records?"

"Oh. Well yes…but there's a problem."

"Which is?"

"Well, I checked earlier. This place has a rather large subbasement which is used to store records…but it's so large and ill-maintained that it's a bigger maze then the one on Crete. You'd probably need a hundred men to find anything useful in that, or at least a golden string."

"Right. Be just our luck if a monster's lurking down there too." Raven said, and watched her love go to work.

---

Scalpel wasn't expecting to trip over a hidden switch that led to Cauterize's secret lair or anything in that vein, but he had been examining the so called crime scene where Chesbro had run into Cauterize for twenty minutes and all he was getting was frustrated.

There wasn't much: a crime scene closed off with one strand of yellow tape and abandoned. It was a good thing Light City wasn't New York: the place would probably have been torn apart by all the loonies that ran around when the sun went down. But here, the loonies were sleeping…or dead. Or they'd run away, or…who knew.

For the forth time, Scalpel knelt and examined the bloodstain on the floor. The dried brownish patch almost seemed to be taunting him, teasing that Scalpel couldn't just pick up a sample and suddenly know the killer's favorite food and the last time he had went to the bathroom. And he didn't know enough about blood splatter and flow to tell if the stain really did come from a bleeding person lying on the floor, or a cut arm that had been drained above the floor. The broken mirror looked genuine, but a smashed mirror wasn't like trying to position a gunshot so a murder looked like a credible suicide. The broken pieces had been taken for evidence, so Scalpel couldn't examine them. And really, what good would that do? They didn't have any of Cauterize's DNA…

OF COURSE! He had his helmet off! He may have left a hair!

Twenty minutes brought the disappointment back. He'd gone over the whole room and found nothing. And even if he had, DNA workups took weeks. They didn't have weeks…

Scalpel crossed his arm and began tapping a claw on his forehead, as he looked over the room again, trying to think if he had missed anything. He concluded that he had not. The room did seem to support Chesbro's claim…and if it was a setup, Scalpel couldn't deduce it.

Irritated, he left, wondering if he could possibly convince Robin to send Batman down for a look. Then again, he might just be getting too attached to his theories…

---

"No show of arrogance…hmmmm…" Gar said, looking over some papers. He was back at the hotel, and with nothing better to do he was once again running through the discussions and evidence. "I really don't know if Toby could hide that ego if he could suddenly run that fast…but…argh, where's a headshrinker when you need one?"

"Personally, I find they would just twist it around to indicate that Cauterize is doing all this because he wanted to sleep with his mother." Came a voice, as Tara headed into the room.

"Hey Tar, ain't THAT the truth." Gar said. "You learn anything?"

"They found a lot of stuff at Roman's house. Looks pretty strong. And Roman is still missing." Tara said, as she tossed herself onto the nearest bed.

"What did they find?"

"Some pornography involving Asians…but I didn't like that. There were only four magazines. No videos. Then again, they did confiscate Roman's computer. The bulk of it may be on there. But what was really strange…" Tara said, and told Gar about the war room.

"I have to admit, THAT'S harder to explain away." Gar said.

"What's to explain? Why would he have all that stuff if he wasn't…"

"He might have his own obsession."

"What? Come on Gar, don't tell me you're that big a believer in coincidence." Tara said, sitting up.

"I dunno. Chesbro's notes indicate that Roman not only has no connections to Stephen Pierce, he seems to want it so that no one ELSE does either. And if Noel said about Pierce is true, Pierce probably knows that."

"So?"

"Roman's still missing. So, does that definitely mean he's Cauterize and he's laying low for now…or do you think he may have met with foul play?"

Tara thought it over.

Gar loved her eyes when she did that…

Argh, dammit.

Wait…no one else was around. Maybe…

Well, at least if he blew it no one would see it…

"I suppose it's a possibility. If Roman was Cauterize, could he really wait this long to try and claim his position, especially considering that he's been gone so long he's now cast suspicion on himself?" Tara said. "And then again, Cauterize is so fast that…argh, this is giving me a headache. I wish Cauterize was more like the traditional super villain who tries to finish us off via a sneak attack at our headquarters, or something…this mystery stuff is driving me nuts."

"Yeah, remember when we played that Dinner game?" Gar said, which was more to distract Tara with a memory as he wrote what he wanted to say on his hand. THIS time…

"You mean the murder mystery?" Tara said. "Oh yeah, that was frustrating…"

Tara was referring to one night when the Titans had played one of those adult dinner games where everyone was given a character and one of them had murdered someone. Each one, along with their character, had been presented with a sheet of ways to act and how to accuse others in order to make the issue as muddied as possible. The second the game had begun, Noel had painted a bull's-eye on Tara's character, which wasn't one of the highest moral standing, and railed on her so badly that he had almost reduced the real Tara to tears (which was admittingly not his intention, he just got too far into the game). The reason? When the game was done, Noel's character was revealed to be the murderer. He later said it was to see how many people picked up on the "Methinks the lady doeth protest too much." vibe, but it had still driven Tara into a tizzy combined with the way that everyone seemed to be guilty of the crime. At least they only had three suspects…and of course it was possible that NONE of them was guilty…

Argh.

"Um, Tara?" Gar was saying, and Tara realized he had sat down on the bed next to her. A tingle went through her suddenly as she also realized they were alone.

"Um…er….I was thinking…we've been on the go a lot…we might need food…" Beast Boy said, trying hard not to stammer.

"Yeah…I suppose." Tara replied.

"Um…well…" Beast Boy said, and then glanced at his hand…only to find that just like the joke I am about to steal, his nervous sweat had muddied up the words. "You see…Mr. Kerns…"

Tara arched an eyebrow.

"Me want…money…plow. Me sick."

"I'd say. Instead of staring at my face like someone who is trying to hard not to stare at other parts of me, you're staring at your hand! On my god, you've been possessed by Adam West!" Tara blurted out.

Beast Boy turned crimson.

"Aw geez, um, I'll call for pizza…!" Beast Boy said, getting up and running out of the room.

"Oh, no, wait Gar wait I…!" Tara stammered, but it was too late: he was gone.

"ARGH!" Tara yelled, as the hotel vibrated. "What is going on! This seemed so easy and obvious once! How did it become this!"

Tara sighed. Well another chance lost. Guess she'd better…

No. Not another chance lost. She may have fumbled the ball again, but this time she was going to go for a save. She and Gar were alone, it might be a sign, and she wasn't going to waste it.

Enough sillyness. Time for the direct approach. I mean, what was the worst he could do?

"Beast Boy?" Tara said, getting up. She expected a reply from the next room (with the hotel empty now, all the Titans had picked out their own rooms and set aside another for their work), but all she got was silence. "Beast Boy? Hello?"

The green furred teen, who she sorely wished she could say the right words to, wasn't in his room, or in any of the other rooms. For a moment she grew worried, and then she heard noises upstairs. Oh. He'd gone to one of the upper rooms. He was probably embarrassed…

Come to think of it…what had he been saying? It almost sounded like…

Tara paused halfway up the stairs, and pondered for a moment if what she had wanted all this time was always there and she had just not seen it.

Then she grabbed a strand of her hair and pulled it in front of her eye.

"…..Nah. This is just my hair color." Tara said, and headed back up the stairs. The noises were coming from an open door three doors away from the stairs. Tara ran her hand through her hair, trying to think of the words. Gar, I think we might have something, I'd like to explore it…no…Gar, we've been through a lot, and I think there might be a lot more to be…no…Gar, I'm tired of being lonely, would you like NO…Garfield…no forget that he doesn't like being called by his full name…Gar do you believe in love after love…no no NO, thanks a lot Cher…Gar…I just want to say…

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!" Came a sudden yell from the room. Tara stopped dead, emitting a tiny squeak of surprise at the sudden angry yell.

"I say everything I want to, and you just won't respond! Who do you think I am, some kind of Don Juan in green fur? I only have this to offer, WHY WON'T YOU DO IT RIGHT!"

Tara blinked, and then her heart sank. She was too late. She had joked and teased when she should have spoken the truth, and now Gar was angry at her, and what they had would be poisoned, and…wait, Gar didn't have X-Ray eyes, and she had been walking very softly…he could be in a rabbit form or something but why would be yelling at the door…maybe he found it easier then yelling at her…then again…

"GOD DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU TO HELL!"

Tara crept up to the edge of the door and peeked in, figuring that yes, she looked foolish, but if Gar was so angry what did that matter…

"I HATE YOU!"

Tara's eyes went wide. Gar wasn't even looking at the door. He had his back turned to it, and seemed utterly oblivious to her presence. Instead, he was yelling at…a full-length mirror.

"Why can't you just say the right words? It's not that hard!" Gar yelled at the mirror. He smacked his hands into his forehead. "Damn it…I'm beginning to get an idea on why Noel was so frustrated. Lucky Tim, he gets the girl of the alien species who are highly emotional and fall hard easily…then again I must admit I did get the first kiss…"

"WHAT?"

Gar nearly hit the ceiling at the sudden angry yell, and he whirled around to look at Tara, who looked a lot meaner then she had five seconds ago.

"Tara! What are you doing there? How long were…"

"Perhaps we can exchange information…" Tara said, marching forward. "Was what that about YOU AND KORY KISSING!?!"

"Oh, well…"

"YOU ARE NOT HAVING AN AFFAIR!" Tara yelled. The hotel began to shake.

"An affair? What on earth are you talking about?"

"WHY WOULD SHE KISS YOU!"

"She absorbs languages through touch…and she didn't know any better. She had just landed."

A brief pause, and then Tara's eyes stopped glowing.

"What?"

"It was how she learned English. Why do you think she speaks so many languages? She can learn them through a kiss, and it's instinctive of her species to do that if they don't detect an outright threat. Plus her species is much…like that. But that was back when the team was first being formed! Nothing like that happened again! Unless you count the time Blackfire impersonated…"

And then a sudden realization came to Gar.

"How much of what I said did you hear?"

"Um…er…" Tara said, blushing.

Gar once again turned red, and then he turned into a turtle, his limbs and head retracting into his body as the shell fell to the ground.

Tara didn't know what to say, as she clasped her hands behind her back and rubbed the toe of her boot against the ground. She was faintly aware of a strange slight squeaky noise, but she ignored it.

Then a memory came to her.

"Hey Gar…" she said softly, leaning down and picking up the shell. "Remember this? This is how we first met."

"Wha?" Gar said inside the shell.

"The scorpion, remember? You assumed this same form. The more things change…"

Beast Boy was suddenly human again, but since Tara had been holding the shell, he was now directly in front of her. He almost ran away again. Almost.

"What did you say anyway? I know you garbled your name, calling yourself Boy Beast….but what was the other one? Sounded like gibberish fighting to be sense."

"Huh?" Beast Boy said, and Tara could feel the chasm springing up again. Why had something like that ever come into being?

Maybe that was it. Maybe words could go across a chasm, but they were empty in the end. What you needed…was a connection.

"Tara…" Gar said, as he started to take a foot back.

"Gar." she stated, reaching down and seizing his wrist. Gar looked shocked at first at the sudden grip, and then he looked confused…and underneath that…

Maybe she was a blonde…

"Gar…I get the sense there's a lot of stuff unsaid between us…so I'm not going to use words." Tara said, and brought his hand to her chest. At first Gar thought it was something else, and he nearly pulled away in embarrassment…but not before she finished placing her hand on her chest, right over her heart.

She'd let that speak for her.

Gar stared at his hand, feeling the motion underneath it, and then he looked up to Tara, her eyes so large…so shining…so filled with…

"Gar…you ever wish you could turn back time?" Tara asked.

"You mean with a Chromonton Thingamajig?"

"Not technically. Just…in itself." Tara said.

Gar blinked…and then he finally understood.

"Yeah…" he said, and he wagered it all and started to lean forward and up, hoping, hoping…

She was leaning down…

And then the window exploded as a yelling form of orange and white flew through it, and the two were pulling away from each other as Beast Boy became a lion and Tara began hunting for rocks…

And then they realized it wasn't an attack, as the glass finished falling, revealing Nigel hanging in the broken window, with one ankle tangled in a length of rope that he was swinging from.

"…………..Hello." he said.

Silence.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING/TRYING?!?" Tara and Gar yelled almost in twain.

"Uh…well…hmmmm, thereby hangs a tale…literally…" Nigel began.

"Just tell us how you came to be OUTSIDE THIS WINDOW." Tara growled.

"Uh well…it started when I got here and found I had left my key in the room. And I didn't want to break any doors and windows. So I found one of those window washing belt thingies and used it to climb up so I wouldn't damage stuff with my claws. I wanted to find an open window, but I couldn't. So I figured I'd have to try and cut one small hole in a window to get in, but I couldn't find the right leverage, so I started swinging, and I got disoriented, and I forgot that the materials on this planet aren't usually made for Blacktrinian claws, and then, this is the funny part…hey! Where are you going?" Nigel asked as the two started to leave. "Hey, don't mind me! You can just…eh, I mean, could you cut me down? I…" Nigel said, and then his foot twisted at the wrong angle and his own clawed appendage cut the rope, leaving him in freefall.

"OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!" Nigel wailed in his best Mr. Bill as he fell into the bushes below. "God I hate humans!"

---

"Did I miss something here? Again?" Noel asked his teammates. Nigel was sitting on the bed, an ice pack on his head and ankle while looking at a bunch of files, and at the other end of the room Gar and Tara were sitting together, looking at their own files and occasionally giving Nigel looks so frosty it had lowered the room temperature ten degrees.

"Only if we missed something with you and Raven." Gar said tersely.

"Um…no…we got a few things out of Roman's office and then she had to go…" Noel said, catching on that something may have finally happened and that Nigel may have wound up wrecking it, so he figured he'd spare the group the details of Raven's goodbye, which had left Noel's head spinning for the better part of twenty seconds. "So she's gone. She'll tell the others we're doing ok and basically let them know that if we need help, they'll help. Anyway guys, let's do one last review and then we can go to bed."

"Don't mention beds." Tara muttered to herself. Gar didn't hear it, but Nigel did with his huge ears, and he winced inwardly at what he had derailed, after all he had done to cause it, sort of.

"Ok, you probably all know about what the police found at Roman's house. Another thing to note is that Roman had apparently been visiting Light City High once a month for the past eight months."

"Toby." Tara said.

"Quite possibly. If Roman is not Cauterize, he might be working with Cauterize. We're going to see if we can get a search warrant for Toby's house. Then again, it might not mean anything, and we might be barking up the wrong tree altogether. Nigel?"

"Chesbro refused to let me examine his injury. That might just mean something." Nigel said. Tara groaned.

"Something wrong Tara?"

"Every time I have a set theory someone messes it up."

"That's life Tara."

"Actually life is usually some moron committing a crime in the heat of the moment and being sloppy and stupid which leads to his or her quick arrest and imprisonment. These are rare and exclusively OUR problem, it seems."

"True. We might need more information. Considering the holes in City Hall and the LCPD, due to you know who, our greatest source might be a lesser one…but we may have a problem with that too. Gar, what exactly happened with Elijah? He didn't want to speak with you?"

"Yeah, and I thought that was weird, so I turned into a fly and took a look…I shouldn't have done that, I intruded on a very private moment…"

"You mean…"

"No. Nothing like that. Elijah was sitting at the table in his kitchen, and he was with some woman, I was pretty sure it was his mother. And she…I think she lost her job, and she was…" Beast Boy sighed, not wanting to recount what he had seen. He really had had no right, looking in at Elijah's mother, a small frail women with thin graying hair and a slightly long face, sobbing softly into Elijah's shoulder and begging his forgiveness, and Elijah, trying so hard to be an adult when his oversized clothes made him look more like a kid then ever, trying to assume his mom that it would be all right. Beast Boy had left then.

"Awww man…" Tara said. "This just blows."

"For Elijah or our source?" Nigel asked.

"Well both, but I liked Elijah…say…you don't think…" Tara said.

"Who did his mom work for?" Gar finished.

"You got me, but I see where you're going." Noel said. And where the two were going was basically this: considering Light City's bad way, Stephen Pierce probably had his hand in a lot of the businesses. And considering how it had been said that men like Stephen Pierce lash out when they are angry…Noel could easily see him sitting in his office, calling random businesses and ordering firings, ruining lives to try and appease his own.

Maybe.

Then again, maybe it was more like an almost certainly.

"Ok guys, this is crunch time. We HAVE to stop Cauterize. Simply because, and once we've done so, we can turn our attention to Stephen Pierce. And yes, we could say we could just let our problems eliminate each other, but as much as it pains me, we can't let him kill him. Hell, Cauterize might have other plans. He might want us to think Pierce is the definite target when it's really someone or something else."

"Unless Cauterize is indeed working for Pierce." Gar said. Noel sighed.

"Yes, I suppose that's possible. And on that annoying possibility, I see an excuse to vent, so please don't be offended!" Noel yelled to the ceiling as he grabbed up some pictures. "You're right, we do have several strong points on our three, but hey, life is weird, so maybe Cauterize is someone else. Maybe he is working for Pierce. Hell, maybe he is Pierce! That would be a kick in the pants! Hell, maybe it's Turnquist! Maybe along with Speed Force powers he has a magic wand that makes him 35 years younger and a Caucasian!" Noel shouted, though as mentioned, he wasn't yelling at his team, just venting in general. The others went along.

"Maybe it was the medical examiner we worked with!" Nigel yelled.

"Maybe it's Principal Tugwell! Or Elijah! Or Elijah's mom! That would really be a shocker, wouldn't it?" Tara added.

"No! I have it! It is Mayor Tercero's radioactive clone's father's brother's cousin's nephew's former roommate!" Gar finished.

"No Gar you're overcomplicating it! IT IS MAYOR TERCERO!" Nigel yelled.

"I thought he was dead."

"THAT HASN'T STOPPED VILLIANS BEFORE!"

"MY GOD! THIS ISN'T A TOWN AT ALL! IT'S A MOVIE SET! IT'S THE REMAKE OF SCREAM! EVERYONE'S A SUSPECT!" Tara concluded.

"Ok ok…" Noel said. "All things, yes, there is no guarantee it is any of our suspects…but Occam's Razor had got to come into play somewhere…but still…whoever it may be…we have to stop him. This town needs a hero, and despite what Cauterize might think, he ain't it." Noel said.

"What about Elijah?" Tara asked.

"What? Oh yeah. I suppose I should give him his interview. Hell, maybe I can arrange it with all the Titans. That would help if he wanted to go for a career in journalism: superheroes ARE hard to speak with. Heck, look what that interview with Superman did for Lois Lane's career…"

The hotel phone rang, and the Shimmer shot out to answer it.

"Hello?" he asked.

For two minutes he listened to the other person on the end talk, and then with a "We'll be right there.", he hung up.

"Guys, I'm afraid we'll have to forgo sleep for a little longer. Something has happened."

---

Stephen Pierce lived on the outskirts of town in a grand huge Victorian style mansion, a shining symbol of ill-gotten excess. It had a seperate garage that was bigger then most houses, a driveway nearly a quarter of a mile long, a private beach, and all the other trappings, including a huge fountain in front of the house.

Savior wished he was there to see Pierce's body. But no, Pierce was very much alive and currently screaming his head off at Garry Turnquist and several other officers inside the house, which Pierce had refused to let the teenagers into. It was a self-righteous and indulgent rant, and he should not have been making it…but that was not the thinking process of Stephen Pierce.

So the Titans were on the roof, looking down on the front yard.

"So…still think Cauterize is working for Pierce BB?" Savior asked.

"If he is, I think he may want to switch employers." Beast Boy replied.

On the lawn nearby was burnt patches of grass, where until recently, flame had been burning, letters written in gasoline that spelled out a message. The moon was, as usual, covered behind heavy cloud, but the police had a spotlight on it for some reason.

YOU'RE NEXT.

"Guess he's made up his mind." Terra said.

"I hope he has, in a way. At least this time we know which way he'll be running." Savior replied.

"Yeah, but will we see him coming?" Scalpel asked.

No one answered that. No one wanted to.

---

And some distance away, eyes looking through black glass, seeing the house and the message, remembering the craze that had broken out when it had suddenly appeared, and thinking of the future, Cauterize crossed his arms and smirked.

"Bill Goldberg, eat your heart out."

To Be Continued