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.

6. Running Scared

Part 6: Running Scared

"Savior, you have got to be kidding."

"I wish I was Beast Boy, but unfortunately the situation has simply come to this. Overall…"

"No. I REFUSE!" Scalpel yelled, slamming his hand down on the table, nearly breaking the heavy wood furniture in half. "You can't actually have us guard that gervad asdftyu's life! Especially after what he's done!"

"And what would you suggest Scalpel?"

"Have him placed in police custody. They can take him to a safe house…"

"Scalpel, the police can't guard Pierce against this. They'll be offering him a glass of water and suddenly his head will fall off."

"And what makes you think we can prevent that any more then they could?" Terra asked, crossing her arms.

Savior sighed.

"I can't. I can't guarantee anything. All we have to go on is guesses, and this one is mine. If Cauterize really, truly wanted Stephen Pierce dead, he'd already be dead. No warnings, no dramatics, nothing. But there is more to this then his death. Cauterize wants to send a MESSAGE. And who knows what that is? In any case, it's all we have. The police haven't found Roman and we don't have enough evidence to get a search warrant for Toby's house."

"And don't forget Chesbro is back on the job." Beast Boy said.

"That too. And that's considering if any of them are Cauterize, which, despite the stuff they found at Roman's house, is not conclusive. He could still be a snake in the grass that we won't know until it bites us. We're in a bad way here guys. We have a foe who can move so fast he could be here and gone before we even know it, and we still have no idea who he is, where he is getting his information, or even what side he's really on. As some of you have suggested, this could all be a brilliant feint."

"I don't think Pierce is that good of an actor." Scalpel said. Indeed, all the so-called "businessman" had done since the message had been written on his lawn was scream at everyone, alternately threatening to sue them and calling them incompetents. That was bad enough, but when Pierce had yelled at them when they had come into the house with the police, his eyes had showed something more then just reactive rage. There was viciousness in there, the animal cruelty that lurked in the souls of men like that, charged on fuel and needing an outlet.

It was just perfect really. Not only did they have to deal with Cauterize, but with whatever revenge plans that were probably simmering behind Pierce's gaze. His businesses had been crippled (in theory anyway, as there was NOTHING WHATSOEVER linking the great philanthropist Stephen Pierce to any criminal activity, nope, no sir, what cruel lies!), and his connections that had allowed such smooth sailing were growing more frayed and tenuous each hour. Indeed, such evidence of that was that by now Pierce would have surely had Turnquist removed from his position. He didn't even NEED to use dirty tricks there: Turnquist was not the officially elected chief. But things like that required local government, and City Hall was still in a giant mess due to Tercero's death and Roman's disappearance (and the possibility he was Cauterize). Savior wondered if the hapless Sergeant Robinson was still running things, or if control had shifted back to the dark side. He'd have to ask Turnquist for an update…

But back to the problem, Cauterize was not the only dangerous man they had to deal with. In a way, he was less dangerous, because at least they knew his intentions (maybe). Pierce could be a lot more unpredictable.

"Maybe, maybe not. But the fact remains. We will probably have a SLIGHT, very SLIGHT advantage if we stay here and act as his bodyguards. It will be a better position then back at the hotel. Yes, maybe it is pointless, maybe it will all be for naught…but guys, hate to say it, but when you signed up for this job…"

"We didn't sign up, you PICKED us." Terra grumped/snarled.

"I meant as a superhero. Believe me, I'm just as aggravated and angered as you that we have to actually protect this piece of shit. I could offer that we could use this to make sure he gets what he deserves, but with men like Stephen Pierce, that is a very empty promise." Savior said. While people proclaimed different, men like Pierce were above the law. If they couldn't buy their way out of trouble, they'd buy people who would get rid of the people CAUSING trouble. Even if they did get convicted, many of them could still run their businesses from prison, and their money usually ensured that many of the horrors of prison never touched them. True, there were exceptions…but that was like gambling. The odds were that you would probably lose.

It was enough to make Savior consider just standing back and letting Cauterize through…but that, in the end, would be worse. Pierce probably knew nothing in the end about what his deeds did, that infuriating ignorance that men like him had. But Savior knew what evil was. And one of its greatest victories was when men caved in to its ways, whether it was for easing a problem or solving one that seemed to have no solution. Savior was no saint: he'd flirted with the dark side several times, and he couldn't always chalk it up to being in an intense state of emotion at the time. But a few failings did not mean he couldn't dispense the advice: there was a different between acting wrongly in a terrible situation when you really had no idea what you were doing and acting like it when everything was calm, at least on the surface. If Savior stepped aside, in the long run he would be worse then Pierce. Pierce didn't know better. Savior did.

As utterly maddening as they were, morals had to be adhered to. Or the battle was already lost.

And the fact that people struggled on despite them showed that it had not been lost yet.

Maybe it was destined to be lost, but Savior would rather die being crushed under its momentum while trying to stop it then going along with it.

And that meant that despite what Pierce had did, wanted to do, and all that, he could not be killed. Yes, perhaps it was what he deserved, but…

Argh. Savior hated these trains of thought. It just seemed to go from one aggravation to another until it drove a man mad. Perhaps its lack of a true final answer was what made people who they were…

"Earth to Savior!" Scalpel was yelling, and Savior drifted back to reality. He sighed again.

"Ok guys, in simplest terms, we have to protect him. Who he is and why he needs protection and all that is ultimately irrelevant. This is what we do, for EVERYONE in THIS situation. Once it is done, well, that's a whole new ball game."

"That is very little compensation." Scalpel said.

"Well, keep this in mind. We might fail." Savior said. "But that doesn't earn you slack. You act like Pierce is a teammate…"

Groans.

"And give him the protection as such, EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T WANT TO."

"Why do we have to do this?" Beast Boy groaned.

"BB, I wish I could say there was some grand reward for having to do things like protecting crime lords from vigilantes who just want their cities to be nicer places and for that to happen there can't be a crime lord…but I don't know if that is true. If it makes you feel any better, I'll take the first watch. We can decide who goes next later. For now, hit the books again, look over the new info, and since we're staying in such a nice place, see if we can't make Pierce regret the fact that he now needs protection from us 'freaks.' Now let's go fill in our new baby that we'll be sitting for him, and if necessary, right ON him." Savior said, as the Titans got up and left the room.

In the other room were Pierce, sitting at his desk and glowering at the company he was keeping: nearly a dozen police officers, including Chesbro and Turnquist. Savior was sure there were a few men on Pierce's payroll lurking out of sight. Pierce's lawyer had been in the room when Savior and co had last been in it: he was gone now. Off to see what he could do to help his endangered client? Dismissed as useless? Getting out while the getting was good? Who knew, or cared. At least the view of the lovely fountain was still there, shown through the gigantic windows that backed Pierce's desk (his main office was located right above the front door. Normally Savior would have suggested he move, but in this case, he doubted the killer was going to bust out a sniper rifle).

"We've come to a decision. We'll stay here and protect Mr. Pierce…" Savior began.

"UNACCEPTABLE!" Pierce yelled, slamming a hand down. "These teenagers have been fed endless slander by my enemies! They will not make a concentrated effort, and besides, they have no official nature in the investigation…"

"Shut up you idiot." Turnquist said. "These teenagers are the only hope you have of staying alive."

"DON'T speak to me like that." Pierce retorted.

"SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Savior bellowed. "Pierce, you don't seem to get it. THINGS HAVE CHANGED. Now, you have two choices. Go along with them and maintain some dignity, or get dragged along kicking and screaming. Either way, we're staying here and watching your ass."

"I refuse."

"Ok, we offered. Come on guys, let's go back to the station, Pierce has refused our help. Say, shall we start a pool on how much longer he has to live? Put me in for four hours…" Beast Boy said turning around.

"Beast Boy." Savior said quietly. Beast Boy didn't reply, he just stopped, sighed, and turned back around.

"This is, as your spiritual ancestor might have said, an offer you cannot refuse." Savior said to Pierce.

"I refuse. Leave my place before I have you arrested for trespassing." Pierce replied. He was trying to keep his image of the untouchable lord and master of his domain up, but the cracks were starting to show, and not just because his life was in danger. After so many years of people rolling over for him, one way or another, Pierce was now faced with several thorns that he just could not remove from his side.

Savior looked around wryly at the police officers around him.

"Ok. I refuse. Anyone want to arrest me? Any takers? Going once? Twice?" Savior said. The cops looked a bit uncomfortable, and one actually started to reach for his handcuffs, but one look and shake of his head from Turnquist stopped him. Scalpel glanced at Chesbro, but he had his game face on, as if the accusations and suspicion that some people had about him had never been made.

"Hmmm, guess you're out of luck Pierce." Savior finished.

"Why are you here? You obviously don't like me. Why act like you care?" Pierce said, abruptly switching tactics. Savior had been thrown better curveballs then that before, and while he was no Babe Ruth, he'd at least bat in a run, if he could.

"Caring has nothing to do with it. You're in danger, we protect you. That's it, that's all. Protest all you want. You know damn well that all the guards and thugs in the world can't protect you. How can they guard against a foe like that?"

"How can YOU? The last time you tried, your protectee ended up dead and all of you ended up in the dirt. A familiar place to be sure." Pierce said, managing to regain a bit of his poise.

"True. We have our backs to the wall. Cauterize could be anywhere. He could even be in this room right now moving so fast we can't catch him in our peripheral vision…"

The sound of guns being drawn was very loud as several of the officers considered what Savior had just said and panicked.

"…THAT DOES NOT MEAN HE IS PUT THOSE GUNS AWAY BEFORE YOU KILL SOMEONE!" Savior yelled over his shoulder. He turned back to Pierce.

"And I make no guarantees. But what was it you said to me Pierce? I wouldn't be willing to make the sacrifice that would be needed to bring my friends to avenge me? Well, it's time for the opposite. You don't want us here, but you know that without us, you're dead meat. You don't want to make that sacrifice, but you have to. So pull up a pitcher of water and wash down the crow. Believe me, there's a lot more coming." Savior said. He turned back to Turnquist. "Would you like to leave some of your men here as well?"

"No…but I think we'll give the place a once over before we go, just to make sure he isn't here or that he hid any surprises." Turnquist said.

"No! You can't do that! You don't have a warrant!" Pierce yelled.

"A warrant? Mr. Pierce, we're not looking for evidence of a crime. We're trying to make sure you're safe. Don't worry, we'll be careful, and after all, it's not like we'll find anything, right? After all, you're just a businessman who people are always telling lies about." Turnquist said. "Move men. Let's try not to take too long."

"Go with them guys. When they're done, go to our new meeting room. If you need me, you know where I am." Savior said, as the Shimmer grabbed a chair that Savior placed in front of Pierce's desk. The energy spun it around and Savior sat down, leaning on the back, keeping his eyes on Pierce.

"Oh come now, this is just too much." Pierce said.

"The closer I am, the better my chances. Small as they are." Savior said.

The door closed, leaving the two alone.

For a few seconds, the two stared at each other, and then Pierce got up, walked around Savior (who spun the chair in place), and headed for a cabinet near the door that the police officers had just left through. He opened it up to reveal a multitude of expensive wines, liquors, and alcoholic drinks. He selected one, poured a shot, downed it, put the glass back, and closed the cabinet. He went back to his desk (Savior spinning around again) and sat down.

"I need to conduct business." He said.

"Conduct away."

"I don't do that in front of people."

"Well, either adapt or put the wand down Maestro. I won't be selling any of your secrets to the competition. Which makes me wonder, what do you do anyway?"

"Real estate and insurance."

Savior snorted.

"What? Oh, you're serious? Sorry."

Pierce glared at Savior with baleful eyes.

"If you're going to watch me, do it from across the room."

"No, I think I'll stay right here for now." Savior said. The Shimmer flowed from his hand, went across the room, opened the door, and zipped out. It returned several seconds later carrying a flat and ornately carved box, which Savior placed between the two and opened up to reveal a game board.

"Play chess?"

---

"Leave me alone. I have a job to do." Chesbro said as he opened a closet and began looking through it.

"Why don't you just let Nigel examine you? It will be a lot easier if we can eliminate you as a suspect." Terra said.

"My mind has not changed." Chesbro said, and left it at that.

"No. It wouldn't. I suppose that's just the way it is. You probably had to learn to rely on yourself at a young age. And when you have to do it young, it isn't very long before you think that the only one you can rely on is yourself. Believe me, I know all too well." Terra said.

Chesbro didn't even blink at the fact that Scalpel had revealed what they had discussed. He finished looking through the closet, closed it, and went over to the bed in the guest room he was examining, kneeling down and turning on his flashlight, shining the beam under it. True, the odds of Cauterize hiding under the bed were probably as likely as Hitler's ghost appearing before them and breaking into a rousing solo of "Charleston", but Chesbro had always been thorough.

"All right. Fine. Don't talk to me. You seem to leave that when you have your mask on. Am I talking to you, Cauterize? Am I?"

"Young lady, don't be foolish."

"Oh, of course not. How could you be Cauterize? Cauterize is special. You can't stand us special folk, with our fancy costumes and our extraordinary powers. We mock your laws while living the high life. Man oh man, aren't we a bunch of loathsome fancy lads!"

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"I'd rather think that I'm just pulling out the ones you're too polite to say. Maybe I should be thankful for that, but know this Chesbro. Being special is as much as a burden as anything you bear. You, at least, can take refuge in the fact you're human and hence can only do so much. We're expected to work miracles and we're reviled when we can't because despite our abilities, most of us are far too human. You know, I don't think you should resent the special. I think you should resent the fact that you don't have the moral high ground that you need to make the kind of judgments you're making, both now and behind the mask you may be wearing!"

Chesbro didn't give any indication that he had been affected by Terra's words as he was standing up, but when he turned around his eyes had become lit with a slight smoldering intensity.

"Miss Terra, have you ever taken a human life?"

"I…um…"

"Oh, perhaps I should rephrase. Have you ever taken a human life with that as your clear intention, rather then a side effect of something else?"

"What do you…" Terra said, and then ice filled her gut as she suddenly realized what Chesbro was talking about.

"You shouldn't look so surprised. You have my notes. You know I do research. It's not hard to make a connection between a string of earth related disasters and a female metahuman who was observed to have such geomorphic abilities who joined a known superhero team, especially considering that the disasters basically pointed to your city in a straight line."

Terra was speechless. She had almost forgotten those dark and terrible days, hiding her pains and fears behind a wall of cheer and sillyness, before the Titans, before her redemption…before she had escaped her own personal pit of hell.

Except part of her never had.

"In the course of my duty, I have been forced to shoot to kill three times. My psychiatric records in the department will clearly show I was deeply affected by those incidents. There is no way I could kill with such flippant abandon. The men I shot were as bad as Cauterize's victims. That did not stop me from feeling it."

"……………..But…" Was all Terra could get out.

"I'm not cruel child. I understand you have good intentions at heart. But quite frankly, I suggest you go back to your drawing board, because you should not be accusing me of sins with one hand while trying to tell me to atone mine with the other when you have clearly not finished atoning for your own."

Terra sat on the bed.

"That is all. I will not discuss this again with any member of your team. I'll be heading back to the station soon: I'll call you if we discover anything important." Chesbro said, walking out the door.

Terra sat there for a bit, working on what had just happened. Then she realized that she didn't have to do it alone, and went to find Beast Boy, or Scalpel. She could use some company, even if she had to go sit with Savior and glare at the scum they had to protect…

---

"Checkmate." Pierce said, moving his rook into position.

Svaior's eyes flickered with annoyance.

"Four in a row. Not bad at all." Savior said. He was in the midst of resetting the pieces when his communicator buzzed.

"Oh lord, you have one of those insipid custom ringtones…" Pierce said.

"Don't look at me, I didn't pick it." Savior said, flipping open his device. He was mildly surprised to see Robin's face on the view screen.

"Savior." Robin said. There was no tension in his voice: The incident that had led to Savior getting picked for this mission had long since faded from Robin's memory.

"M'Leader. Can I help you?"

"Raven gave me a report. What's new?"

"The vigilante known as Cauterize has selected a new target. We have decided to give him 24-hour guard in the vague hope that we might be able to intercept this assassination attempt. His target is a Mr. Stephen Pierce. You might know him. Hey, I have Robin on the line! You know, the protégée of Batman? Want to say hello?" Savior said, directing the last three lines at Pierce as he turned the communicator around and used the Shimmer to shove it in Pierce's face. Pierce recoiled. Robin just looked at the man through the viewscreen, his mask allowing him to emit a glare that would have done his mentor proud.

"Don't recognize him. Must be small time." Robin said.

"Maybe, but no less troublesome."

"And he is this Cauterize's target?"

"That appears to be the case." Savior said, as Pierce sidled back up to his desk.

"Savior…I trust your abilities, but the report Raven gave me was very troublesome."

"Meaning?"

"We can all be there in half an hour…"

"No Robin. And that's not foolish pride. Hear me out."

"I'm listening."

"Raven told you my worry?"

"That someone might try and attack Jump City while we're gone. That Cauterize may even be part of a larger plan to ensure this."

"Yes…I'm not so sure about that any more, but there's something else…basically Robin, I don't think you can help."

Robin arched an eyebrow.

"Considering the injuries Raven claims you suffered, I would think you need all the help you could get."

"On one level yes, but on another…Robin, a foe like this is a very tricky prospect. What we have at the moment is a puzzle that's still difficult, but solvable. If all you guys come down here…I think you'll just complicate things. I think this situation calls for a commando unit, not an army."

"Savior, you could die."

"I could die whether or not you come and help. I could die on my mission after this or ten years from now. I know that Robin. I know the consequences. And the fact that none of the others have called you independently indicates that they understand too. Robin…I think that not only can we handle this on our own, we have to."

"……….Ok then. I'll take that under consideration. For now."

"I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

"Speaking of right decisions, Gauntlet is very unhappy you took the PDEM with you."

"I did?"

"Apparently."

"Gauntlet can be unhappy? I thought that was physically impossible."

"That was the assumption I was operating under as well." Robin said. "In any case, Jump City is quiet at the moment. If you send me some information I'll see if Oracle and I can take a look."

"Thanks, I'll do that."

"Ok then. Robin…"

"Er, Robin?"

"Yes?"

"You did make up for the thing that resulted in this, right?"

Silence for a moment, and then Robin gave Savior a slight, wry grin with the corner of his mouth.

"It's true what they say. Anticipation does make the heart grow fonder." Robin said.

"I thought that was absence."

"No, absence just makes it madder." Robin said, and cut the connection.

"Yeah, I'll bet." Savior said, flipping the screen down and looking at Pierce. "Still in one piece? Ok then, hang on a moment…" Savior said as he leaned down, pulling his boot up. He carefully pressed on a section on the heel and slid it aside to reveal the small black form of the PDEM. Hmmm. Did take it. Must have instinctively slipped it in when Raven wanted me to help with the gardening…

Then an idea occurred to Savior.

And was almost immediately rejected.

No. I can't use this on Cauterize. Even if I fail, even if I die…there are others who can stop him. This needs to be used when the Omega Obliterator needs the defense over his weak spot to fail just before a combined attack hits it. Or if Amazo decides to throw a hissy fit again. Savior thought, and slipped the device back in and resealed his boot.

A pity he had to take his eyes off Stephen Pierce for the several seconds that required.

That was all the time he needed to reach over and punch a short code into his phone, his body language graceful enough that he did it without catching Savior's eye.

"Ok Pierce, back to the grind." Savior said, finishing resetting the pieces.

"The grind?"

"The way things were going before this." Savior said, indicating the communicator as he slipped it into his belt.

More then you could ever realize, you stupid fool. Pierce thought with satisfaction. You may think you've won, but this is just one battle. I will win the war. I always have.

---

Turnquist walked into the kitchen and found the green teenage metahuman with the blonde girl sitting at a table and eating from several plates of foot that were placed on it. Beast Boy was eating from a large vegetable and dip platter, while Terra was chowing down on a very large piece of Black Forest cake.

"Really putting your noses to the grindstone, eh?" Turnquist said, though the nastiness he would have normally used was kept to a bare minimum. These teenagers might have failed to save Tercero's life, and what they were doing might ensure his city's descent, but he knew effort when he saw it. They had been putting out a great deal of effort: it was only fair they took a break. Pushing people was fine, but you had to know when to stop pushing or you'd shove them right off a cliff.

"Hey, if we have to guard that scumbag, and possibly even save his worthless life, then we're going to make him work for it, even if all we can do is make his cook earn his paycheck." Terra said, and paused to drink a big glass of milk.

"Careful young lady, you're going to get fat."

"Not in this life. My metabolism would put the core of a star to shame." Terra said.

"I gathered." Turnquist said. Beast Boy finished the carrot he was eating and was about to say something when his communicator buzzed.

"You have one of those custom random noises that people use instead of ringing? Maybe it's a generation gap, but I don't see what was wrong with ringing."

"Don't look at me, I didn't pick it." Beast Boy inadvertently echoed as he answered it. It was Savior.

"What's your position Beast Boy?"

"Terra and I are grabbing a quick bite before we get back to research."

"Right. Pierce has his own cook, right?"

"Dude, Pierce bought the nearby section of town's land and kicked everyone out so he would have privacy. With money like that, you should assume he has his own chef." Beast Boy replied. It was true: while Light City was once famed for its beach, the beach didn't cover the entire length of the coastline the city was built on. The beach was sandwiched between two sets of rolling hills. One set had a lot of woodland and was mostly used by campers and hikers, and the other set on the opposite side of Light City had consisted of mansions for the rich and a small, self-contained offshoot of the main municipality where the people who worked for the rich lived, a section of houses that surrounded a few blocks of necessities like banks, a supermarket, a mini-mall, and even a small movie theater. When the chemical factories had been built down the coast and the decline had begun, the rich had moved on and people trying to make a living at the factories had replaced the servants. At least until Stephen Pierce had arrived and rebuilt one of the mansions to the point that the previous ones seemed small. Apparently he had decided he didn't want such skuzzy people hanging around and pulled some strings to buy the land the small section of town was under. He promptly kicked everyone out, and now the section stood abandoned, not even inhabited by squatters because of the trek necessary to get up there. Instead it stood, a monument to corrupt excess.

"True. Ok Beast Boy, tell him to make several meals that can be frozen and reheated…oh god, he's not one of those nutso artists of think they have to educate people's palates and go insane if you suggest…"

"I get it. Don't think so."

"Ok. Tell him once he's done to clear out of the place. I think things will be getting bad soon. Once you're done eating, go around and tell the same to any of the "normal" servants. The rest probably won't leave even if you tell them to."

"Gotcha. Turnquist is here, you want to speak to him?"

"Actually, yes." Savior said, and Beast Boy handed the T-Communicator to the still unofficial chief, who looked at the device and the small screen on which Savior's face appeared with interest.

"Intriguing gear you have here." He said.

"If we survive this case maybe I'll give you one as a souvenir." Savior said. "Find anything?"

"Nothing but some pornography and a few bottles of steroids. No drug caches or hidden armories, or secret passages, or pirate treasure, or anything in that vein."

"All right. You have the number to my cell: ring if you need anything. We'll be down there as quickly as we can."

"If this is a diversion, it won't be quickly enough." Turnquist said cynically.

"I know Chief, I know. But you and I both know that in the end, this is probably the best choice. Hindsight is always 20/20, but it's almost always pointless."

Turnquist chuckled darkly.

"How true." He said, and handed the communicator back to Beast Boy.

"Ok Savior, what do we do after we tell the servants to clear out? And where's Scalpel?"

"Scalpel said he was going to try and get a fresh perspective on things. Heaven knows what that exactly might be. You should run into him soon. When you do, Beast Boy, I want you to go back to our new brainstorming room and get back to work with Scalpel. Terra, when you're done I'd appreciate it if you go outside and do aerial recon around the place. Who knows, you might see a cloud of dust like the Roadrunner. God knows we're due for a break."

"Aye-firmative." Terra said, sound like Newt from Aliens.

"I'll call you back later: we can decide then on who's going to watch Mr. Pierce next." Savior said, and ended the conversation.

"Well Chief, see you around. Hopefully." Beast Boy said, standing up and picking up his plate to put in the dishwasher. Turnquist nodded and turned around, and then his own cell phone rang. The two teenagers looked at him as he held up a finger and answered the phone with the other.

"Turnquist."

"Chief! We have a small albeit non-Cauterize problem." Said a voice on the line.

"Oh. Ok, what is it?" Turnquist asked, waving away the two, who went back to putting away their dishes. He could hear one of them opening a door and talking to who he assumed was the cook in the background.

"There's some oil tanker that had its navigation system messed up or something and now they don't have enough fuel to get to their destination. They want to know if they can borrow most of the docks for a few days while they refuel."

"Well, no one's using them now, are they?" Turnquist said. The docks had been designed far more then for pleasure then business, and like many already mentioned things, pleasure had left this city a while ago.

"Is that an affirmative?"

"YES." Turnquist said.

"Oh, ok."

"Right. When are they going to get here?"

"Sometime tomorrow evening. Maybe night."

"All right, if things have changed maybe we can spare a few men so they don't wind up crashing into the harbor. The ways things are going, it wouldn't surprise me…" Turnquist said as he hung up.

A quick cough grabbed his attention. At first he thought it was one of the teenagers, but they had left during his conversation. Then he thought it might be the cook…until his eyes found the source.

If the sunglasses-wearing leather coated man with the razor-like hair cut leaning casually against the wall was the chef, they certainly had changed their fashion. Turnquist doubted it was that, and that didn't leave good things as the alternatives.

"Can I help you?" he asked, ready to go for his gun. He wouldn't be surprised if some idiot under Pierce's employ knew what a hassle he was making for his boss and had decided he could score brownie points if he helped remove it. Criminals were usually stupid…the smart ones ended up like Pierce, albeit without the being stalked by a superspeedy vigilante part.

Shades didn't reply. Instead he reached into his pocket, slowly, as if trying to indicate he wasn't going for a weapon.

Instead, he withdrew an envelope. Turnquist stared at it. Shades just put the envelope on the counter that was between the two. He again slowly reached into his jacket and withdrew a cell phone, laying it down next to the envelope.

"What's this?" Turnquist asked, still on the alert.

"I'm sure you can figure it out." Shades said in a low, raspy tone, and turned and left.

The envelope had "Chief" written on it. For a moment, Turnquist wondered if Pierce had actually decided that the new boss would be just like the old boss and delivered a bribe. Heck, maybe it was the one that the late Rudy Bialas had been scheduled to receive before his impromptu meeting with a stone wall.

Just to be on the safe side, he slipped on gloves he always carried on his person (even walking a beat, he still had to investigate crime scenes) and opened up the envelope with a knife, holding his breath in case it had something nasty inside (could Pierce actually get ahold of anthrax? Turnquist wouldn't put it past him…)

It wasn't a bribe.

It wasn't white powder.

What it was was something that Turnquist had been suspecting all along, in a deep deep part of him. But that didn't help when he saw what was in there, as it tore through the defenses he had erected from decades of dealing with criminals and struck a cold knife of fear deep inside his being.

When the cell phone rang a minute later, he finally knew what it was for.

---

"Toby, this is ridiculous."

"Mom, I've explained this at least ten times." Toby Garigen said. He had gotten most of his looks from his father, who worked a lot. (Toby could live with that though. It was amazing what one could adapt to), but his eyes were from his mother, who admittingly had not aged too well from the beauty pageant contestant (albeit never a winner) she had been in her youth. Maybe it was because she was so damn overprotective, always thinking the world was going to destroy her son the second she turned her back. Toby had been able to tolerate it for a while, but even since the injury and the tripling of his training, it was becoming intolerable. He loved his mom deeply, but she was really beginning to tick him off. He wished she could see past her overprotectiveness and realize that he had to get better, regain his form, and then surpass it. This city may have abandoned him, but he was going to regain their attention, and rub it in the faces of all those who had doubted him.

And he was going to do it on his own merits. He would not take any shortcuts or cheat in any way, whether that option was there or not.

And he had options. They might not know it, but he did.

"Toby, you have to REST. I know you're trying to rebuild the muscles, but if you push yourself beyond your limits every day, the muscles aren't going to be restored, they're going to disintegrate."

"I know Mom. I've worked out how to pace myself…"

"You don't need to pace yourself! You need to REST!"

"Mom…please. Not today."

"What's so important about today?"

"It's personal."

"Toby, I am your mother! You should not keep secrets from your mother!"

"Mom…there are things I have to do on my own. That's just the way it is. I'll rest tomorrow. I promise. But I have to run today."

"Toby!"

"I'll be back by three. Love you Mom!" Toby said as he zipped out the door and closed it.

Part of him felt rotten, but that was irrelevant in the end. What he had to do, it wasn't just for him. It was for her, hell, if he could allow himself some arrogance, it was for the whole damn city.

So Toby jogged off down the road, thinking it all through.

It pleased him.

---

Turnquist was waiting for Chesbro when he came out of the small library (that had been covered with so much dust that Chesbro wondered why it was still around if no one used it), walking out into the very large room that served some function that wasn't clear. It had some staircases and a high ceiling, but the furniture didn't give an indication of what this room's purpose was. Not that it mattered.

"Chief." Chesbro said. "Do you…"

"John, we have to talk." Turnquist said.

Chesbro immediately knew something was wrong. While he and Turnquist had worked in the same department, their comings and goings (and the manipulations of others) had seen to it that they didn't see each other much. And when they did, Turnquist always addressed him as Chesbro, occasionally "Jonathon". The only time he called him John was back when…

"Don't dance around it. What is it?" Chesbro said quietly.

"John, I have to remove you from this case."

Silence.

"Reason." Chesbro replied.

"Paid leave. Your arm needs more time…"

"My arm is FINE. You know that." Chesbro said.

"John…"

"He got to you, didn't he?" Chesbro said, in the same quiet tone. To Garry Turnquist, that was worse then a screaming accusation.

"John, you can't understand…"

"Maybe not. But then again, there was a lot I never understood, didn't I? Like how you waited so long to do what you did, all things considered. Like how you looked at the mask that vigilante wore and wondered if I was behind it."

"He sounded nothing like you John, but he said…"

"I know what he said. Do the teenagers?"

"Not sure."

"But if they don't, soon, right? You need to cover the bases. I know you well Garry. And I know why you're doing this." Chesbro said. "I will still not accept it."

"John…"

"I'm not a child any more Garry. I know you looked at my father and saw his failures and that struck you to the core, as you compared him and I to how you and your boys were and wondered how he could act like that. I know you tried to help along with my uncle. And I'm grateful for it. But I don't need a father any more Garry. I need a fellow soldier. I need a leader to rise up and pull our brotherhood out of the morass it's sunk into, someone who can look at the consequences and not be cowed by them. I need you to do what is best for this city, rather then what's best for you. That is my decision and I will not change it. Far too many people have compromised these days. I will not join them."

Silence.

"Then you leave me no choice. Give me your badge John."

Chesbro briefly closed his eyes, and then opened them again, showing no emotion as he reached into his pocket and handed over his gold detective's shield. He also handed over his gun without being asked.

"I'm sorry John." Turnquist said.

"Yes Garry. In the end you are." Chesbro replied, and walked off without a second glance.

Turnquist sighed deeply, looking at the badge, thinking about what he had just done, how he had in the end done exactly what Bialas had, which was lean over and let Pierce have his way.

Maybe he should have been stronger or tougher. Maybe he should have stood by what he had tried to stand by earlier, when he had been staring down the emotionless pit that was Cauterize's black helmet.

But he couldn't.

Not after seeing the pictures of his sons, taken from a distance from the colleges they were at, and the several of Vanessa, just doing normal tasks around and outside the house, and the small typed note.

YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN PROTECT THEM?

Light City needed a leader…and he couldn't be it. He wasn't a leader at the core. He wasn't even a cop. He was a husband and a father.

The cell phone trilled. The one Shades had given him. Anger stirred in his gut. All he had vowed to do when he had taken this step, undone by a few pictures.

For a brief moment, Turnquist could understand by Cauterize had taken the path he had. The one Turnquist would now have to walk was enough to drive him mad.

But he would walk it, and hope for the best, in all regards.

So he answered it.

"It's done."

"Good. Now you know what else you have to do." Shades said on the other end.

"At least…"

"No. You will go back and resign right now. And if you know what's good for you, you'll get out of town. Trust me, you don't belong here."

The line went dead.

A crushing weight seemed to have settled on his back, as Turnquist took the cell phone away from his ear, stared at it, and then hurled it against the wall with a noise of intense frustration and rage.

He then left the room, trying to collect himself and figure out just what he was going to do.

One could suppose he never had a reason to, but had he peered up, his eyes finding a dark corner on the ceiling, he might have seen Nigel Hastings, aka Scalpel, hanging upside down like a bat. He had originally gone up there to attain the fresh perspective he had told Savior about, keeping in the corner as not to freak anyone out. Instead, it had allowed him to eavesdrop on the whole conversation…including the cell phone. His ears were huge for a reason.

Scalpel flexed his feet, letting go of the ceiling and flipping over as he landed. He rose slowly, thinking over what he had just seen and heard.

His life threatened, and Stephen Pierce was still trying to run this city.

Scalpel bared his teeth as a low growl thrummed in his throat, and then with a whirl of orange cloak he was off. He wasn't going to stand for this.

---

Savior had, despite his best intentions, found he could not stay in the chair and stare at Pierce all day (especially after his 11th straight chess victory. The bastard was GOOD…then again, after playing a whole city like a harp (from hell), maybe playing chess was easy), and now he found himself by the window, though he still kept both his eyes on Pierce, who was writing something at his desk.

Then the phone on the desk rang. Pierce looked up and then glanced at Savior.

"Can I answer my phone, or will you do that too?" he asked.

Savior thought it over.

"Make it quick." He said, and crossed his arms, keeping his ears opened. If he heard anything that sounded fishy…

"Pierce." Said Pierce as he answered it.

"It's done boss." Shades said on the other end of the line.

"Oh really? Good. I was worried that deal was going to fall through. Good job Alex." Pierce replied. Shades' real name was not Alex, but Pierce had to keep that damn kid from becoming suspicious. Fortunately, in his early days Stephen Pierce had gotten into the habit of talking in code to throw off anyone who was listening. He'd kept the habit just in case, and it was paying off: the freak didn't seem to have a clue.

"So what now boss? Shall we go through with a followup or is the business fine as it is?" Shades said.

"Well, I suppose we could consider that. Always good to keep people's nose to the grindstone." Pierce replied.

"All of the way? Maybe one?"

"Not, that's not right for this. Try the Austin account." Pierce said.

Shades chuckled.

"You really know how to hold a grudge boss. Too bad we can't see his face after the accident."

"No. I suppose…"

And then a giant noise exploded through the room as the door exploded off its hinges.

It was a good thing Savior was at the other end of the room, because it wasn't Cauterize: it was Scalpel, and if Savior hadn't had time to turn around and see that before he instinctively lashed out at the noise Scalpel could have been in some serious pain.

Normally Scalpel would have considered that, except he had stopped outside the door when he had heard a phone ring just before he was about to enter, albeit less violently then they way he just had, and something had made him stop and put his ear to the door. Where he had once again, despite the barrier and the distance, heard Pierce and his minion speaking, as Pierce actually managed to pull the wool over Savior's eyes as he…did what? Ordered the death of one of Turnquist's loved ones? Or maybe something worse? Maybe one would suffer a car accident. Maybe his wife would turn down the wrong alleyway and…and that was all Scalpel would stand for as he reared back and kicked the door as hard as he could, smashing it off its hinges in a spray of wood.

Pierce recoiled so hard he nearly fell backwards, and as mentioned, Savior was an eyelash away from giving Scalpel a man to Shimmer chat. But he managed to hold off as Scalpel stomped in.

"Scalpel, what the hell?" he said. By now Pierce had regained his poise as Scalpel stomped up to his desk.

"What is the meaning…!" was all Pierce got out as Scalpel grabbed one end of the desk and shoved it aside like it was made of cardboard, taking one last step before his hand shot out, his clawed fingers seizing Pierce by the neck.

"Scalpel! What are you doing!" Savior yelled, running over, as with one clean jerk Scalpel lifted Pierce out of his chair and above the alien with one arm. A normal Blacktrinian could probably have never done this, as the balance between their strength and the sharpness of their claws meant they would probably have tore their target's throat open in the process. But Scalpel, as per his codename suggested, was a surgeon. He had a lot of fine control.

Even though he wished he didn't have to exert it, as he fought to let his fury take command of him and rip Pierce's esophagus right out.

"CALL IT OFF." He hissed. Pierce couldn't reply per say, but he managed to gasp and choke out a general sound that indicated he supposedly didn't know what Scalpel was talking about.

"SCALPEL!" Savior was yelling.

"CALL IT OFF. OR I'LL PULL IT OFF." Scalpel snapped.

The Shimmer was suddenly there, though it didn't pull Scalpel's arm away. Instead it inserted itself between the claws, Savior wincing in the process as he took some of the weight away from Scalpel and made sure the alien, despite his intentions, didn't kill Pierce.

"Scalpel, what's going on?" Savior asked quietly. The alien looked at his current leader.

"This pierce of cjuytr has been trying to keep business as usual behind our backs. I happened to be present when it was revealed that Pierce has apparently threatened Turnquist's family and blackmailed him into resigning. And even though Turnquist has apparently agreed, what you just overheard wasn't some business deal but his order to harm one of them anyway. As a warning to others." Scalpel said.

Savior thought it over.

"Put me down!" Pierce managed to gasp out.

"Is this true?" Savior asked.

"Put me down now! You crazy…!" Pierce said.

The Shimmer flowed out and jammed itself into Pierce's ear, carefully working its way through the eardrum and hooking up to the his brain, as Savior accessed the part that contained memory. Years of practice allowed him to filter out all the junk he didn't need as he access Pierce's memories of the last few days.

And when he was done searching, Savior had to admit that Pierce was nothing if not prepared.

That only made him angrier though.

"You fucking scum." Savior said, withdrawing the Shimmer, this time pulling Scalpel's hand away. Pierce collapsed in his chair, gasping for breath. He barely noticed the Shimmer pawing at his clothes until it located Pierce's cell phone.

"Do what he said. Now." Savior snarled.

"I don't know what…" Pierce said before twin Shimmer blades slammed into the seat on each side of his head.

"You just won't listen. Maybe I need to DRILL it into your head." Savior snapped, as a third Shimmer line flowed out and assumed a rough drill shape. "You may think you own this town Pierce. You may think you can do whatever you please. But that was then. This is now. It's OVER Pierce. Your empire is FINISHED. Because if we can catch Cauterize, my friends and I aren't leaving. We're staying, and we'll call in every favor and friend we can muster until you are in the jail cell where you belong. Now call off the attack."

"I don't…"

The drill jumped forward a few inches. Pierce tried to recoil again, except this time there was no room.

"Yes. You will. Because if you don't…well, I don't need to be messy to do damage, Pierce. I can easily just hook up to your brain and fake a heart attack or a stroke. The medical equipment needed to catch such a ruse exists in about two places on this planet. Heck, we even have a convenient alibi. Scalpel here overheard your plan, was consumed by rage, and marched in to stop you, but you, already jumpy due to the Cauterize thing, were pushed over the edge by the inappropriate actions of the alien and had whatever you had. He's a registered doctor you know. He can sign the death certificate. No one's going to suspect us after we clearly tried to protect you despite our strong feelings, and the claw marks on your neck are already explained away. Once again Pierce, you told me something would never happen because I didn't want to die. And it's the same to you. Now call it off."

Pierce didn't reply, but his eyes were wide and fearful…and under that were flashes of an intense hatred.

"What, you think we won't do it? You know Pierce, maybe you're right." Savior said, stroking his chin. "After all, crossing the line is what brought us here to deal with Cauterize. He chose to take lives and for that we have to stop him. But that kind of action is a noble deed, and as you probably know, humans are not prone by nature to nobility. And when one looks at this town, at all the fear and suffering, most of which was caused by YOU trying to carve out your own little slice of paradise…it makes us angry Pierce. Being the good guy all the time is a terrible burden. Having to always follow the upper path when it lets people like you do what you do is the weight of the world. And sometimes, just sometimes…when you just can't take it any more, even the best of us with the best of intentions…So do it Pierce. Or the last thing you see will be Atlas shrugging."

Savior withdrew the strands and backed up, tossing the cell phone into Pierce's lap.

For a few seconds, Pierce's expression went through several changes as he tried to decide what to do. What ultimately settled was an angry resigned look as he picked up the phone, dialing the numbers like they were red-hot.

"Silver, what was just suggested…call it off."

"What? Boss…"

"I said call it off! All of it!"

"Um…boss…you sure?"

"Yes." Pierce said, glaring at the two superheroes. They didn't flinch.

"…Ok then."

Pierce hung up, and then squawked as the Shimmer snatched the cell phone away and promptly crushed it into dust. Savior nodded to Scalpel, who walked over to Pierce's desk phone and yanked it right out of the wall.

"HEY! HEY!" Pierce yelled, starting to get up.

"Sit down." Savior said, shoving Pierce back down into the chair as Scalpel crushed the phone in his powerful talons.

"Scalpel, find Beast Boy. You and he find every single phone in this house and destroy it."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Pierce yelled.

"And you can't build an empire on people's backs. At least that's the way it should be, but hey, you certainly know about how things don't happen the way we want them to." Savior said, as he pulled out his communicator and dialed Terra.

"Nothing up here Savior." She answered.

"I figured. Is Turnquist still around Terra?"

"Um, I think I just saw him leave…"

"Argh. Ok, chase him down! When you find him have him dial me again on your device!"

"Savior, can't you just call him?"

"He might have his cell turned off! Look, just do it! Please."

"Ok." Terra said, and signed out.

Pierce had gotten up while Savior was talking, made his way over to his liquor cabinet, and was now pouring his third shot of whatever he was drinking (apparently stress made him turn to alcohol). To give Savior credit, he let Pierce finish drinking whatever he was drinking before he yanked him away from the cabinet, grabbing up the shot glass that Pierce had been drinking from and putting it back before he closed the cabinet, all while pulling Pierce backwards. He shoved him back in his chair and yanked his desk back in front of him.

"And as for you…change of plan. We don't so much protect you as we use you as live bait. Let's hope Cauterize wants to go for the dramatic rather then the practical, because if he goes for the latter I doubt we can save you, and won't that be such a pity."

Pierce snorted. The façade was almost gone.

"You have no idea what you've just done." Pierce said.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I suddenly in the presence of someone with power?"

"Surely you don't think I got here through sheer luck."

"No. I don't think that Pierce. You know what I think? I don't care how you got here. Were you someone who was denied all the necessities and vowed to never let that happen again, by any means necessary? Or were you someone who always got what he wanted and grew up thinking that was his divine right, no matter what anything or anyone else said? Something else? Who knows? I don't give a damn Pierce. I never did."

"You…"

"SHUT. UP. I know you think little of me Pierce. Some kid with powers that tries to see the world in black and white. Others have told me the same. But that's not my thought process Pierce. That's my coping mechanism. You think I don't know about men like you Pierce? As much as I loathe it, men like you run the world. Good natured, good-hearted people like the ones in that city…they exist for you to step on. And people like me…people who have to try and fight the disease, only to find that the disease is running the body. Trying to ease suffering in any way we can, only to find that for every costumed nutball and lunatic we deal with, the real enemies sit in their rooms much like this and delve out misery in a way that keeps them untouchable. We try and save the world…and nothing seems to happen. So what should we do? Roll over and give up? Get caught up in the great apathy that seems to destroy so many? Maybe that is our destiny, but no one can truly tell the future, and as long as that is the case, my friends and I will keep doing what we're doing."

Savior pushed away from the desk.

"It's probably not something we can do. We could fight crime until we're old and gray and we'll have only dealt with a tiny chunk of all that's bad. But in that…we might influence others. Maybe only a tiny number, but what we do will not be forgotten. The human animal is a truly flawed and cursed being Pierce. Driven to survive by any means necessary, combined with gifts that render such desires moot, evolution unable to remove or combine the two because both are needed to survive and survival is all evolution knows. So we have your breed Pierce, whether its in this huge mansion pulling all the strings or down in the streets killing someone for seven dollars. The fracture, the foul concoction, two sides that seemed destined to tear themselves and everyone else apart. How can we fight against something that is so much a part of ourselves? In the end, any way we can. Even if that means a lifetime of effort that yields only the bare minimum of gains. We fight to be remembered Pierce. Much like your kind does. And in the end…I think we will be successful."

Pierce was silent for a bit.

"You think you'll win?"

"You think you have?" Savior said. "Oh, maybe you think you have Pierce. After all, you're happy, right? After all, look at this. All the human animal could ever want. Money, success, power, control. The American dream."

Silence again.

"Ah…but happiness is the funny thing Pierce. We seek it out, we lament we don't have it, and we envy people like you because they seem to have it. But the truth is, misery comes to all people Pierce. It's a part of our existence. It's a part of free will. How could we really be free if we couldn't make bad decisions? And maybe you think otherwise, think you're beyond it all as you delve it out to other people while feeling none yourself…but that's not true Pierce. Everyone has to suffer. Everyone. And those like you…eventually in one way or another their misery finds them, and since they tried to deny it so long, they find a great big roaring SEA of it. I'm not religious Pierce, but I like to believe in karma. Especially when I can help deal it out." Savior said. "And even if karma doesn't come through…that's not all. There's more to life. All this Pierce…its smoke and mirrors. It's a shell for the true goal of the human brain. And that is immortality. Human beings have sought to defy death ever since they became aware of it. And a lot of them try it your way Pierce. And you may think they succeed. I mean, how many great GOOD people can you name off the top of your head, compared to bad? But…history is a funny thing too Pierce…"

Savior walked back over to the desk.

"Ever heard of Alfred de Marigny?"

Pierce gave Savior a blank look.

"Ok, how about Bruno Hauptmann? Come now, he was at the center of the trial of the century!"

"Can't say I have."

"Exactly. Hauptmann was the man convicted of the murder of Charles Lindbergh's baby. How about the Lindbergh baby? What was its sex? Its age? Its first name? Where was the body found? Do you know?"

"Why would I?" Pierce snapped.

"Of course…except that if you went back in time and told a citizen during those days that you didn't, he would have laughed in disbelief. After all, that trail mesmerized the nation, the world! It occupied the papers for months! It was the trail of the century! Except people moved on. New trials of the century happened. How about Sacco and Venzitti? They were the most famous criminal defendants in the first half of the 20th century. Now people would probably think they're a perfume from Florence. In their own way, all these men supposed achieved immortality…except it was a false one. Oh sure, you have the "elite" breed like Hitler and Jack the Ripper…but time goes on. How long will it be before Jack's name is buried in the sands of time? How long before Hitler becomes a footnote? For all the bad things that men do that supposedly consign their name to the ages…they really don't get consigned at all. And before you say the same will happen to us…perhaps not. You see, human beings tend to want to forget horrors of the past. But good things…people want to hang onto those. So I would like to think that 10,000 years down the line that the human race will, in some tiny tiny pocket, remember what we did. But you, Mr. Pierce…you'll have long since ceased to exist in any form at all. That's why we fight Pierce. Why we, I, do what I do."

Savior turned away, putting his arms behind his back as he walked to the window.

"As usual, Shakespeare said it first and said it best." Savior said. "Imperious Ceaser, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. O, that that earth which kept the world in awe, should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!"

And once again, silence.

Until Savior's communicator started to ring.

---

"He actually tried to arrange to have Turnquist's family hurt while we're AROUND? That goddamn scumbucket!" Beast Boy cursed.

"I know. Part of me still wishes I could have just killed him and saved us all a lot of trouble…but instead we're trying to save his life."

"Yeah well, the meek will inherit the earth! Or something!"

"Actually, there's a seldom used phrase on my planet. 'When the stars do cross and the eye of the green stares accusingly, one must stalk the roads lest he become a slick fool.'"

"…………..Dude, that doesn't make any sense."

"I know, that's why it's seldom used." Scalpel replied. "Anyway, back to the sleuthing. Did you mail that info to Robin?"

"Oh yeah…except I can't find a computer and I don't really want to use one in this house."

"Point. We should look into getting one. But until then, we must place the feet back onto amusement."

"…….Right."

"I just know there's something we're missing, but what is it?" Scalpel said, looking at the large board with their main suspects and a few possibles. "Cauterize is clearly getting his information from someone if he isn't getting it himself. If Cauterize is Roman, why did he have all his information in his apartment, yet not a trace of any gear?"

"Keep in mind that we can't really apply the normal habits of killers to him. They usually have an area where they feel safe and most won't leave the area to do what they do. But when you have speed powers…Cauterize could have his real base of operations in Canada, or Spain, or somewhere in the Australian Outback."

"Yes, That might be where Roman has gone. Cauterize hasn't been actually seen since the Tercero attack, messages being left or not."

"Still, we can't keep considering all the ways Cauterize breaks the normal mold. Maybe we should see where he fits it." Beast Boy said.

"Yes…what is it said you humans kill for, usually?"

"Sex and/or jealousy, and money. It almost always has to do with one of those two."

"Ok, how does that apply to Cauterize?"

"Well, there was Giggles…but then again, the fact that all he does is admire the women shows that maybe it isn't about sex. If he was sexually frustrated, he probably WOULD have committed those rapes. His control either indicates a superhuman restraint, either in regard to his mission or hell, maybe even to whatever morals he might still have kicking around." Beast Boy said.

"And I can't see where money applies. They wasn't any indication of robberies at the scenes of his attacks." Scalpel said.

"Maybe that means he already has both." Beast Boy said.

"Roman again?"

"Actually I was thinking of Toby."

"I don't know. From what you've told me, even if he not using his powers to cheat…"

"Yeah, but maybe if he thinks that if this is a nice town again, along with him getting back to his old glory, people will start paying attention to him and teenage girls will start throwing themselves at him again… and he supposedly likes "exotic" women…"

"I don't think so. The Speed Force isn't like steroids. You can't trace it. All Toby would have to do is subtly use it and he might achieve all that without needing to kill anyone."

"Maybe he got impatient."

"Or maybe Roman made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"Or maybe someone else did." Beast Boy said. "What do you think of Chesbro?"

"Not sure…I think he's a man struggling with the life he's chosen. I think part of him wants to trust us and the other part can't stop reminding him of what his father did when the special person in his life let him down. What Turnquist was just forced to do probably didn't help."

"What happened with that anyway?"

"Savior talked to him, explained it, but Turnquist said he had to think some things over for a bit. He supposedly called the police station and left someone else in charge."

"Did he tell anyone that he supposedly fired Chesbro?"

"That I don't know."

---

The answer to that question was no.

He might not have owed the city anything, considering how it had treated him throughout his career as a police officer, surrounded by pawns who undid everything he tried to do (and cheapened everything he did do The reason Chesbro had made Detective so early in his life wasn't due to any giant case he had solved single handedly. He was good, but not a prodigy. No, the reason he had been promoted was his work in arresting and convicting a small group of heavily-armed men who had set up a drug lab on the abandoned docks. Which was fine, but rather pedestrian in its execution. Chesbro hadn't taken them down single handedly or dragged an injured police officer to safety. The bust had gone down without a shot fired. Which is why Chesbro had been puzzled that he had been given a Detective shield for it. Until the men, while awaiting trial, suddenly disappeared. No one made much effort to find them, and Chesbro knew why: they had been competing with Stephen Pierce. Chesbro had always wondered if his bust had managed to set them up to be conveniently liquidated, and that Pierce had sent word to have his unwitting dog tossed a bone. It would explain a few things…and it always made Chesbro feel ill.) Indeed, most men, after something like this, would have finally given up. But Chesbro was not the type to give up. A shrink might have said that he was transferring his feelings about his father onto the city, but Chesbro had always thought that most of them were kooks anyway. It didn't say much about a profession that based a good chunk of its teachings on things originated by someone as strange as Sigmund Freud. Ok, maybe he was getting it totally wrong on that assumption. Hell, he might even have the wrong discipline. But even though Light City was on the fast track to hell, people were still allowed private thoughts. He wouldn't be writing a newspaper article or trashing someone's reputation any time soon.

And he wasn't giving up on the Cauterize case. Turnquist may have fired him (which again was due to Pierce), but that didn't mean he couldn't perform his own investigation. And after sitting in his car for a bit and thinking it over, he had concluded that since the firing was surely motivated by something else, he didn't much care if he had to bluff his way around a bit to continue his inquiry.

So he here was, down in the basement archives of City Hall. He had gambled that Turnquist hadn't told anyone he was no longer officially on the force (and speaking of unofficial, it made Chesbro wonder if Turnquist's own tenuous position allowed him to fire people. Probably not, but he had a feeling that this injustice would be carefully swept under the rug. After all, that was what Pierce wanted), and it appeared he had been right. He had walked in and spoken to Robinson and was sent down without a second glance. True, he might only have a limited around of time down here before Robinson learned the truth, but Chesbro had been sure he could find, if not a key piece to the puzzle, maybe something to make the picture clearer.

That was becoming unlikely. Robinson had warned him that the basement archives were a huge, unkempt maze, but what they really were was something like the warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant had been hidden at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

On top of that, a lot of the lights had been burned out, some hallways and passages were blocked due to collapsed piles of old moldy files, and there was no map. After finding himself back where he had started after 20 minutes of wandering around, Chesbro had procured some masking tape and a pen and started leaving markers. That worked, and he had spent the last hour looking around, using his flashlight (which he had fortunately put fresh batteries in two days ago) where there was no light.

He wondered why this huge basement had been built, until he found that the City Hall had been constructed on top of an old museum. That made sense. Museums tended to have huge areas like this packed with long forgotten exhibits (wasn't that how they found the only remaining stuffed sample of a Dodo bird?), but Chesbro had a new question that hadn't yet been answered: did his city really have so many records?

"Too bad Cauterize is so homicidal, he could have found his calling down here." Chesbro mused as he found another filing cabinet that should, in theory, contain police records. He held his breath (experiences with the first few had taught him that the amount of dust these things released could be lethal) and yanked it open. After the cloud settled down, he began looking through it.

It was police records, and near the beginning was something that brought back old memories: a picture taken at the annual Officer's picnic seven years ago. Chesbro had joined the force not two months before it and at the time it had been great to see all the friends of his uncle for the first time as their fellow. It hadn't lasted: shortly after that time Pierce had really begun to sink his fingers into the city. Chesbro stared at the picture of the men, his younger face looking out at him, surrounded by men who were now gone, in one form or another, and more men who should have left, for one REASON or another. The true state that Pierce had inflicted really showed in the fact that Rudy Bialas, the late official chief, was not in the picture.

Chesbro sighed and put the photo back, and began looking through the records. Before Turnquist had given in to whatever blackmail he was being threatened with, Chesbro had stopped by the room where the teenagers had their examination going, while none of them were there. It irked him to see himself up on the suspect board, but he had tried to put that aside when he gave their inspection a once over. It wasn't bad, and it was one of the sections on that wall that had him going through these old records. The Titans had theorized that if Cauterize wasn't him, it might be another police officer due to theories on where he was getting his information. They even had a few possibles due to the little information they had gotten about various officers that might have discovered the Speed Force, the so called power that fueled Cauterize, or might have the psychological makeup that Cauterize had.

Chesbro didn't know if it could be another fellow officer, but it was a lead, something to fill his time. Once his cover was blown and he couldn't even bluff his way into a neglected records room…Chesbro didn't let himself think of that.

He went through the records for another twenty-five minutes, not finding anything of note, until the sudden drowsy feeling came out of nowhere.

"Ah crap…" Chesbro muttered, as his lids suddenly grew heavy. This was getting absurd, and what was worse, the doctor hadn't been able to find any reason for it. He theorized it might be narcolepsy, but Chesbro wasn't getting the normal symptoms of that, like an electric pain between the teeth that felt like you were chewing aluminum foil between your fillings.

He tried to put the folder he was reading back in, but his fingers fumbled and he dropped it on the floor. His limbs were growing heavy, and he fell to one knee. He didn't want to pass out down here. He didn't know why. Maybe there was a monster living down here and it would drag him away and eat him…

"Monster." Chesbro chuckled, as he slumped down. "You really are…going…"

Darkness…

Eyes…

Chesbro jerked up.

He didn't know if he has passed out or just started to, but he knew what had aroused him from the intense sleepiness: a faint footstep.

Someone else was down here.

And he doubted they were friendly. Even IF someone else had wandered down here or come for a specific reason, they probably would have yelled to get Chesbro's attention. So if they weren't trying to…

Chesbro knew he had been taken off the case because Pierce saw him as a threat, especially considering the fact that the teenagers and Cauterize had attacked the structure of his empire in their own ways. Chesbro wouldn't put it past Pierce to make sure that Chesbro never got back on the case…or any case at all. It wouldn't have been hard to find out where Chesbro was: Pierce had more then a few stoolies in City Hall. And hell, down here…Chesbro could disappear forever.

The drowsiness fading as quickly as it had begun, Chesbro slowly raised himself up, listening…

There. That way. Very faint footsteps.

Turnquist may have taken Chesbro's police issue gun, but he hadn't taken Chesbro's personal small sidearm that he had strapped to his ankle. Chesbro removed it and slowly stood up. He turned off his flashlight, leaving him in dimness.

He began to walk slowly down the hall, listening, trying to determine if the footsteps were moving towards or away from him. Without the flashlight to act as a signal, and if he and whatever else was down here didn't make any noise, they could literally wander around for hours, maybe even days.

A few more footsteps. Close. Chesbro raised up his gun in front of him in case anything came around the corner. Nothing did, and he slowly peered around it to make sure no one else was setting up for the same trap. The hallway composed of file cabinets around the corner ended in darkness: the lights above it had long since burnt out, picking up near the end where the hallway forked. In the middle of the darkness, Chesbro could dimly make out an opening. An entrance to another room.

Chesbro slowly approached the darkness, trying to resist the urge to flick on his flashlight. It might illuminate a foe, but it also might be the equivalent of painting a bull's-eye on himself. So he walked into the murk, letting his eyes adjust…

A slight noise to his left. From whatever lay behind the entrance. That settled it in Chesbro's mind. A normal person wouldn't be wandering around a pitch-black room.

He quickly slipped through the entrance, not wanting to take the chance that the little light that existed at the edges of the line of darkness would backlight his form and give him away. In here, the darkness was absolute, the kind of dark that made men wonder if their body had somehow ceased to exist and their consciousness had been imprisoned for crimes real or imagined.

Slowly, Chesbro walked forward, straining his ears for any sound that might give him an indication of where his companion was, walking with knees slightly bent and rolling his foot from heel to toe in the way professionals did it (he would have brought to mind Sam Fisher from the Splinter Cell series, except Chesbro didn't play video games) when they wanted to be quiet, his gun ahead of him, hoping he didn't kick or trip over something or walk into a wall or do something that gave away his position…

A small desk lamp suddenly turned on.

It the pitch black, the light almost blinded him, but he retained enough of his training to swing the gun at where the light had come from as he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, hoping they didn't shoot…

"Well. You were one of the last people I expected to see down here."

And that was one of the last voices Chesbro had expected to here, as his vision finally cleared and he could get a good look at what he was aiming his gun at.

His suit may have been dirty and torn, and his face was scrawled with a few days' growth of beard, but there was no mistaking the darkly handsome face of Roman Fernendez.

"Roman." Chesbro said in some surprise.

"Chesbro, I believe." Roman said, interlacing his fingers on the small, battered desk he was sitting at. They were in a small room surrounded by filing cabinets. In one corner was a battered couch with a moldy old blanket and a garbage bin, the only furniture in the room besides the small desk he was sitting at, strew with papers.

"So this is where you've been hiding." Chesbro said. He didn't lower the gun though: one couldn't be too careful.

"Well, so the detective proves his mettle, eh? What an astounding feat of reasoning, deducing that I am in the room after I revealed myself to indeed be in it." Roman said, with a faint trace of sarcasm and bitterness.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Oh, I think you already know that, don't you Detective? After all, you're here to kill me."

That actually struck Chesbro speechless, for a second anyway.

"Excuse me?"

"What did Pierce offer you?"

That offended Chesbro.

"I can assure you I am NOT in the employ of Stephen Pierce."

"Tercero said that to me too, once. He's dead, isn't he?"

"….Yes."

"I figured. I run to find a bathroom and I'm washing my hands when suddenly I hear explosions. So I run out into chaos and nearly get trampled by a crowd, literally…" Roman said, indicating that his jacket did have a few faded footprints on it. "And then nearly get crushed by some falling wreckage and everyone is screaming…and I knew Cauterize had struck. And I figured Tercero was dead. And I knew then that I'd probably be dead soon too."

"Why?"

"You know exactly why Chesbro, even IF you're not my assassin. Pierce owns this town. He thinks that this place is his plaything. And Cauterize was taking away his best toys. I know how Pierce thinks, detective. When a problem occurs, the first thing he does is eliminate factors that make it worse. Maybe he could have contained it with Bialas…but when Tercero was killed, I knew that it was going to spiral out of control. When a man like Pierce panics detective, bad things happen. Tercero had been there since the beginning. With him gone, serious problems could arise…unless Pierce got rid of the people who could cause them. I'll wager you'll find a few city hall employees with ambitions and balls dead in the next few days. Not because of Cauterize though. Because of Pierce making sure that they don't become an obstacle to him reestablishing control. Doesn't matter who they are or what they want. It's what Pierce wants. That's the way of this city now, isn't it?"

"So you figured you'd be a target?"

"Chesbro, I'd be THE target. I am Mayor now officially that Tercero is dead, right?"

"Well there will probably be some kind of election…"

"That's not for a bit. For the moment, I am mayor…and Pierce doesn't want this. I'm sure Tercero told him all about me during their phone calls. And I've had the strange feeling that someone's been watching me for months. Pierce knows I won't play ball like Tercero did. Pierce knows I want this city to be more then his little slice of heaven. And Pierce will ensure that I don't get in his way. I thought hiding down here might be enough, until this huge mess works itself out in whatever way it does…but that's gone now. You found me, others will as well. I'll soon be just like the others, those poor fools who tried to throw their weight around. They should have learned you can't fight City Hall, especially with someone like Pierce at the helm."
"Roman…Cauterize has targeted Pierce. He'd currently being guarded by those teenagers, who dislike him even more then you do. I think he's too busy to worry about you."

"Ah Detective, I wish I could believe that. But I know better. And so do you. That's why you're down here, aren't you?"

"I'm down here as part of the investigation…"

"Bullshit. Even with his ghost act, there are probably far firmer leads to follow on Cauterize then this. People don't come down here for useful information Chesbro. They come down here not to be seen. And since you're in so deep that you stumbled over me…you got kicked off, didn't you?"

Chesbro said nothing.

"I'll take that as a yes. Pierce saw you as a threat and took steps to remove you, and since you're down here now I assume this is recent. Did that Turntwist do it? Or was he removed first? Pierce surely saw the danger with him. After all, he actually wanted to do his JOB."

"I can take you quietly. We can protect you." Chesbro said.

"From what? From Pierce? You think you can do that? Even if Cauterize gets him…you think he hasn't left orders to his men? You think they won't all scatter to the wind to carry out the last tasks of their boss? Pierce knows how to pick them Chesbro. His men are very loyal, much more so then the usual scum that surrounds these types. And even IF that doesn't happen…it doesn't matter. I put up with a lot on the faint chance that I could help this city…but I know now that even with Tercero dead and the chance Pierce could join him…it's too late. This city is fucked."

"It's not totally fucked yet." Chesbro replied.

"Oh yes it is. I HAVE IT ON RECORD!" Chesbro yelled, as he reached over to a pile of paper, seized a unit of it, stood up, and hurled it at Chesbro. Chesbro put up his arm as it bounced off him, and then he leaned down and picked it up, finally lowering his gun, though he didn't put it away as he looked at the front page of the paper.

"These are the papers from Tercero's safe, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"And you knew the combination."

"Wasn't hard to sneak it and take them. The whole place was in an uproar when I did so. I could have been wearing a clown suit and no one would have noticed me."

"Hmmpph. That time we spoke outside Tercero's office, you said that night you were home…you weren't home, were you? You were breaking into the safe because you had your own suspicions."

"Well, good to see you earned your shield somewhat."

Chesbro didn't reply to that. He was looking at the papers. They were from some company with way too many syllables in their name for Chesbro's tastes, and he didn't recognize them until halfway through when he realized they were the company that owned the chemical plants on the edge of Light City. The papers were filled with gobbledygook Chesbro didn't understand, though it seemed to have something to do with "refining" and "reducing atmosphere contamination". He got to the end and found a note scribbled next to the end, which had a line for a signee that was blank. The note said "TT MP, Ask G Ex 2 DY?", though Chesbro had no idea what that meant.

"Understand?" Roman asked.

"Barely." Chesbro said.

"What that is is a notice from Shawkcorktenningwillis Inc. The company that built and runs those abominations that have blocked out our namesake for years. Seems that they're changing around their primary business soon. They want to redesign the plants so they can manufacture some new products."

"So how does this ruin the city?"

"Can't you read? THEY WANT TO REBUILD! Sure, it will cost money on our end…but nothing we can't handle, especially if we liquidate the slush funds the late Mayor Tercero had set up. Don't you see? Not only would this provide many new jobs for the rebuilding and the running of the new plants, the NEW ONES WOULDN'T PUMP OUT ANY MORE SMOKE! Which means the clouds eventually disappear, the city has a chance to get back on its feet, and maybe, just maybe, THE TOURISTS START COMING BACK! I think the company knew this: they were offering us this chance to be one of the first plants they refined to HELP US! AND THE BASTARD TERCERO WAS GOING TO TURN THEM DOWN! HE MIGHT HAVE ALREADY HAVE!"

"That's what this caption says?"

"Translating his code, it says "Threat To Mr. Pierce. Ask Good Excuse To Deny?". He had a chance to save this town, to help stop the decline…but he was going to throw it all away because if he did…this is Stephen Pierce's town now. He can't have a heaven unless everyone else is in hell. That's the way men like him are…and Tercero went along with it…Bialas probably did too…they sold their souls…and the rest of us down the river…why…all I ever wanted was to help…why do men like Pierce always win…"

Chesbro looked away from the papers. Roman was sitting down again, his face in his hands, muttering to himself.

He didn't like what he had to do then…but he couldn't take the chance.

"Roman…"

"They always win…even with people like Cauterize…why…this used to be such a nice town…"

That last two words settled it, as Chesbro brought out his handcuffs and quickly snapped one end around Roman's left wrist.

Roman jerked up but Chesbro had him, as he spun around him, pulling Roman's left arm back behind him as he grabbed his right arm and yanked it back, snapping the other handcuff on before Roman knew what was happening.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL!"

"Sorry Roman. But you're under arrest."

"You can't arrest me! You're not even a cop any more!"

"You don't know that." Chesbro said as he rolled up the papers that told the tale of what Tercero's corruption had wrought and put it in a pocket.

"Why the hell are you arresting me? For breaking into the safe?"

"No. On suspicion of being Cauterize. You have the right to remain silent…"

"I'M NOT CAUTERIZE YOU IDIOT!" Roman yelled as he began to thrash around, but Chesbro had controlled bigger and wilder suspects then him.

"If you choose to give up the right to remain silent anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

"IF I WAS CAUTERIZE WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING DOWN HERE! I'D HAVE GONE AFTER PIERCE FIRST THING! I AM NOT CAUTERIZE!"

"You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided to you…" Chesbro intoned as he found his flashlight and turned it on so he could make his way out through the dark hallway. "Do you understand these rights as I have explained to you?"

"NO! YES! DAMMIT CHESBRO, I'M NO MORE CAUTERIZE THEN YOU ARE!"

"Doubtful." Chesbro said, and began pushing Roman along.

---

"So, what's going to happen with Terra?" Scalpel suddenly said.

Beast Boy jerked up from the paper he was looking at, surprised at the suddenness of the question. They two of them had been quietly reading for nearly twelve minutes beforehand, so it was fairly abrupt.

"Well uh…" Beast Boy said, suddenly feeling shy.

"Yeah?" Scalpel said, his eyes sparkling in the way that people look when they're awaiting juicy details. For some reason the look irritated Beast Boy.

"We might have gotten somewhere, if you hadn't COME CRASHING THROUGH THE WINDOW!"

"What? That was an accident!"

"It still wrecked the moment…" Beast Boy said, and sighed.

"But still, that's good! There was a moment! That means that there is something there! Now you just have to establish another moment!"

"But…how?"

"How about asking her out on a date?"

"Um…" Beast Boy said, suddenly feeling intensely shy. Scalpel looked incredulous.

"Oh come on not THIS again!"

"I can't help it! There's just so much, with how we once liked each other and then we didn't and then we did again or I did and I think she does but I don't know if she does so I don't know just what to do…" Beast Boy babbled, and then he turned into a sheep.

Scalpel sighed.

"Ok Beast Boy, time to CUT to the chase…" Scalpel said, waving one arm. Sheep Beast Boy's eyes bugged out at this motion. "Oh. Sorry, must stop doing that. It's clear she likes you. You like her. Just tell her. I'm sure everything will work out for the best."

"I don't know…"

"Ok, FINE. If YOU don't do it, I'll go to HER and tell HER to do it. Maybe SHE'LL be willing to make the leap."

"WHAT? Dude, no, don't!"

"Why not? It would solve this problem, which even I have to admit is getting tedious."

"Dude, that's crazy!"

"No, THIS is crazy." Scalpel said, and suddenly jumped onto the table. "KILL EVERYONE NOW! CONDONE FIRST-DEGREE MURDER! ADVOCATE CANNIBALISM! EAT SHIT! FILTH ARE MY POLITICS, FILTH IS MY LIFE!" Scalpel bellowed, and then grabbed the back of his head and pulled himself over and down onto the table in a self-inflicted flip.

Beast Boy stared.

"I knew you watching all those John Waters movies on the late night art channel would do something bad." He finally said.

"Yes, but considering their content, how can one look away?" Scalpel said from his position on the table.

Then their communicators rang. Scalpel answered his first.

"THE RATS ARE COMING! THE WEREWOLVES ARE HERE!" He hollered into it.

Savior looked a tad startled, and then he didn't look amused.

"Get to the main room guys. We have some new information that could wrap this all up."

---

"They found Roman?" Terra asked.

"He was hiding in the records maze under City Hall. Detective Chesbro stumbled over him." Savior said, not noticing Stephen Pierce's look of surprise at that bit of information. He didn't much care if the crime lord (in theory anyway) heard him: Roman was under lock and key. Even Pierce would have some trouble getting to him, especially considering that his plan to unseat Turnquist had failed (though Savior hadn't told him that Turnquist was not back at the station but at home, once again thinking over the risks of going forward with his choices). Even more so that Pierce had all of his good men in the house (they seemed to be everywhere, glaring at the Titans), supposedly to protect him. And if Roman was Cauterize…well, they wouldn't need to worry about him. "They're going to interview him now."

"Well, good. They uncovered that evidence in his home, right? Surely you should go and keep an eye on him instead of me!" Pierce said.

"I don't think so." Savior said, looking over. "There's no serious proof. And even if he is the vigilante, if we go stay in HIS presence he could be gone and back before we realize it, with his goal your elimination. No Pierce. We're staying RIGHT here."

"What about Toby?" Beast Boy asked.

"The department has gone nuts again, both on the fact they found the Deputy Who Is Now A Mayor and the fact that he could also be the vigilante. I don't think they want me to call up and tell them they might just have the middleman. They're going to keep me posted on anything they learn from the interrogation. When it cools down, I'm going to call them. Actually, come to think of it…maybe I should call now. Something just occurred to me…" Savior said, opening his cell phone. "You guys stay in the room for the moment."

Savior left Pierce's office, glad he could hand off the duty of glaring at the bastard for a bit. He dialed the number he had been giving.

"Chesbro." Came the answer.

"Detective?"

"Only if you don't decide to rat me out."

"Point."

"No one here has heard either…but I suppose it's only a matter of time. But I think it would be far more beneficial if you allow me to keep up my ruse."

"It shouldn't be a ruse."

"Excuse me?"

"Call Turnquist."

"I'd rather not."

"Dammit Chesbro, stop being so stubborn and try listening to me!"

"Why are you calling?" Chesbro said, changing the subject like he always did. Savior rolled his eyes.

"Who's doing the interrogation?"

"Not me. If we need to go to court they could use the fact that at the time I was not an officer of the law against me. It's a pair named Micheal Kahn and Greg Iles."

"They any good?"

"Quite so."

"Ok, have them ask Roman why he kept visiting Light City High every month for nearly a year."

"Why?"

"Because things are never this easy. I'll call back." Savior said, and walked back into the room. "Ok guys. Scalpel, you're with me on the research again. Beast Boy, you're doing the aerial reconnaissance. Terra, you're guarding Mr. Pierce now. Try and keep him as comfortable as possible."

"And what might that be?"

"You decide." Savior said and disappeared out the door again.

"Enough of this nonsense." Pierce said, standing up. "I am going to use the facilities, and don't care WHAT you say or try and do!"

What Terra did was follow him all the way to said washroom. For a moment, Pierce thought she was going to follow him in. But she didn't.

Good thing. Pierce had been fighting with his rage all day, and what these teenagers were doing and what they were planning. They had even gotten around his carefully constructed initial plan to regain control, and it was quite clear they wouldn't be leaving until they had ruined him.

And he'd had enough. It didn't matter what they said. His men could protect him from Cauterize, even if just as human shields. The teenagers had to go.

And he knew just how, as he walked over to the toilet and felt underneath it. He quickly found the small box that concealed a cell phone. The freaks might have thought they had ripped apart all his phones, but Pierce had always thought outside the box. You never know when you might need a phone.

He turned the water on the sinks on and dialed a very special number, hoping that the white haired impudent leader and that alien escapee from a bad sci-fi film had gone back to their "study room". He didn't have any guards in there, and that was needed. Assuming the green mutant was now doing his flying duties, only the bubblehead might hear the cell phone ringing, and that was if one of his minions was nearby. All in all, he was pretty sure none of them would realize what he was doing. It would only become glaringly obvious if a lot of his men were grouped together, and they weren't. Good thing, because the number Pierce had dialed was connected to ALL their cell phones: five or six men getting calls at the EXACT same time would be far more then enough to make those damn teenagers suspicious.

He heard people begin to pick up. They already knew why he was calling: dialing this number made all their phones ring a special way. He waited fifteen seconds, no one speaking, as he heard more and more clicks. When they stopped, he assumed they had all picked up.

"Everyone who is in the field, return to the main base. Act like you're reinforcing your fellows. When everyone is here, wait. Bide your time. But by nightfall, the second you have a chance, any chance…execute the freaks. They might have powers, but none of them have eyes on the back of their heads, and bullets will kill them just as dead as you or me. They've got their attention focused elsewhere: do it right and quietly and none of them will see it coming. Any man who kills one will be greatly rewarded, but all of you MUST make the attempt, OR ELSE." Pierce said, and hung up. He turned off the sink, wiped the cell phone clear of prints, and replaced it. He flushed the toilet and opened the door to see Terra leaning against the wall, watching him with eyes that showed languidity, alertness, and some intense dislike at the same time.

"Done? Good. Back to your cage." Terra said, jerking her head. Pierce felt the rage rise up in him. He wanted to strangle the damn teenager…but he didn't. Instead, he listened. He gave the impression that he had been cowed and beaten by them.

And later that night, once they were dead, he'd drive their bodies over to the chemical factories and personally see to their disposal. Even IF their fellows showed up looking, they couldn't prove he was behind it without evidence, and he was very good at getting rid of evidence. Maybe he could even pin it on that Cauterize. That would certainly be a delicious thing to see, the Titans getting advice from the man who had gotten rid of their fellows.

In a small way, Pierce pitied them. They thought they were so wise and so learned. But in the end, they were still children, who had not learned the lesson of what happened when you play with fire.

Now they were going to get burned. To cinders.

---

"Strange he didn't utter the L word the second he was put in there." Lieutenant Fielding said. A squat man with powerful legs and a bullet shaped bald head, whose soft, almost mushy face concealed his eyes and gave him the look of a dunce, many people had underestimated Fielding. But when one saw his eyes, you couldn't help but notice the sharpness, which is why Turnquist had picked him to be in charge for the moment.

"Don't jinx us." Chesbro said, looking through the one-way mirror at the interrogation room where Roman Fernendez currently was. He was chained to the chair, and he didn't look happy about that or the two officers who were interviewing him. Micheal Khan looked like a taller and bigger Adam Sandler, while Greg Iles was a redhead with a trimmed beard and mustache, wire-frame glasses, and a penchant for nice suits that were cheap at the same time. They were doing the old game of Good Cop Bad Cop, with Khan playing the bad cop (which surprised a lot of people, which is why other men then Roman had not uttered the L word, which happened to be lawyer, and if you know your crime shows, you know why police don't want to hear that word).

"…should know damn well why I would have to go into hiding." Roman was saying.

"Oh come on now Fernendez. You really think that Pierce is out to get you? Have you seen someone about these intense feelings of paranoia?" Khan said.

"I don't know. Have you seen an eye doctor?"

"No, why?"

"Because if you can't see WHY Pierce would be out to get me, you are clearly going BLIND!"

"Hey hey, calm down Roman. It's ok." Iles said.

"Please. Spare me the condescending act and the bully pulpit. Just get to whatever point you want to make."

"Ok." Khan said, reaching under the table where he had a small desk, grabbing something and tossing it in front of Roman, who glanced at it.

Then his eyes went wide with shock as he looked at the papers had taken from his apartment.

"What…what…" he said, beginning to stammer.

"We checked the handwriting on those. It matches yours. Not to mention there were a lot of those in that special room you had."

"What? Why were you in my apartment? How…?"

"That's a lot of information on the late Chief Bialas. An obsessive amount. More then enough to set up what Cauterize did. I'll admit he was an ass-kissing toady, but in some small part of him, he was still a cop. He didn't deserve what you did to him Roman."

"I AM NOT CAUTERIZE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Then explain these!"

"You would only twist it to use against me since you clearly can't find the real deal!"

"You keep saying you're not that, Roman. So if you won't explain those, explain these." Khan said, reaching into the desk again and tossing out something else. The pornographic magazines, now in plastic bags.

This time, Roman looked more stunned and confused, as he picked up one and looked at the cover that could be called quite indecent: normal stores stocking it probably would have kept it at the very top of the rack.

"I've never seen these before in my life."

"They were in your bedroom."

"Someone planted them there!"

"We found your fingerprints on them."

"LIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!" Roman roared, trying to stand up and not really succeeding due to the chains. "I! AM! NOT! CAUTERIZE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Ok, let's say someone planted the magazines. What about that little room you had?" Iles said.

"With the map and the data and all the observations and records and ways they matched up…" Khan followed.

Roman looked back and forth at the two, and then he sat down with a deep sigh.

"They were…therapy."

"Therapy?" Khan said in a clear incredulous tone.

"Were you born here officers?"

"I was." Khan said.

"Raised here?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what this city was once like. It had its problems, all cities do. But the city was HAPPY. It was a nice place to visit and to live. And now…look at all that's happened. The streets are death traps, zones where hope is dead. The people assigned to help the little men, including your fellows, have been removed, compromised, or bought off, sowed with men and women who spit in the faces of their associates with what they do and undo. And it just would not stop. It was like the city was cursed. And six months ago, when I was sitting in on an interview that Tercero was giving to some paper, listening to him lie and lie and lie, for the sake of a chosen few…I couldn't take it any more. So I started doing research. Pulling records. Even doing a few things that might not be considered legal. I started connecting all the dots that no one else wanted or dared to connect. I hoped that some day, some day, all the information I was gathering could be used to help this city…instead all I did was write my own death warrant, one you've already signed off on. But that is why I had that room gentlemen. So I wouldn't go mad. But in the end, it didn't matter. The world went mad anyway."

Silence.

"Nice speech. Actually expect us to buy it?" Khan said.

"If you really want what's best for this city, instead of what's best for Pierce, you will. We have a chance. His methods aside, that vigilante has given us a CHANCE. But we can't take it if you're too busy trying to find someone to blame."

"We're not trying to find someone to blame Roman." Iles said.

"Oh?"

"Come on Roman. Look at it from our perspective. From our view…we don't need to look for someone. I think we already found the right man."

Roman looked at Khan, and then he sighed again.

"Then we have nothing more to talk about. Go lock me up. I'd like a nice funeral. Make sure there's plenty of flowers." Roman said, his fire having gone out again, his nihilistic attitude that he had demonstrated to Chesbro coming back in full force. Iles and Khan prodded at him, but Roman crossed his arms and refused to budge. The only question he answered was when Iles switched gears and asked him Chesbro's question on why he kept visiting Light City High. Roman said something about having an arrangement with the principal to try and keep the school running since he had graduated from it. They tried to build on that, but after that lone answer Roman clammed up again.

Chesbro was about to suggest to Fielding they change something when his cell phone rang. He answered it.

"Anything?" Savior asked.

"Nothing."

"What about all that stuff he had?"

"He claimed that it was his therapy for dealing for how bad the town had gotten."

"How about the school?"

"Some toss off answer about helping the principal."

"Is that true?"

"I don't know. Possible…but we'd have to speak with him."

"His name is Kelvin Tugwell. Check the phone book."

"I will."

"Oh yes, something else. Check his left arm for a scar."

"You mean the scar you think I'm hiding?"

"Just do it Detective."

Chesbro lowered the phone though he didn't hang up, as he pushed past the other two cops in the room and left, heading to the next door that let him into the interview room.

"Chesbro." Iles said, turning around.

"Hello Chesbro. I won't be saying anything else to you either." Roman said, and went back to staring at the wall that was past the three cops.

"Iles, Khan." Chesbro said. "The vigilante may have suffered a cut on his left arm during the fight two days ago. Roman, you can either remove your shirt and let us check you for that cut, or we can examine you whether you want to be or not."

Roman glared at the three for a bit, and then he stood up, shrugged off his ruined suit jacket, and undid the cuff button on his dirty and sweat-stained shirt, shoving it up to his shoulder.

"Where did the injury occur?" Chesbro said into the phone.

"Forearm."

Iles and Khan were already looking, and Chesbro joined them.

All he found was smooth skin with a light coat of dark hair. It was the same on the entirety of his left arm. Same with the right arm. There wasn't even a scar, any indication that there had been a wound.

"Ok, that will be all. Nothing." Chesbro said, the last word going into the phone.

"Nothing?"

"At all."

"Damn."

"Does this eliminate him as a suspect?" Chesbro asked, more in idle curiosity of what the teenager would say then an actual question.

"I don't know. Some Speed Force users can manipulate their body on the molecular level. Cauterize has shown clear evidence he can do that. If he can manipulate his body so that he had literally phase through objects, I don't think it would be too hard to speed up the healing of a cut on his arm."

"All right. Well, that means we still have nothing."

"All right. We'll stay diligent on this end." Savior replied, and ended the call. Chesbro put the phone away and headed back into the observation room.

"…anything?" One of the cops was saying as he stepped in. Iles and Khan had joined the group in the room, leaving Roman alone, staring at the wall.

"I'm sure we can think of something. If anything, it will make me breathe a little easier." Fielding replied.

"What's the plan?"

"We can use that room of his to hold him for a bit, but guys, you better find something like a costume or a smoking gun, because circumstantial evidence will only take us so far."

"What about Pierce?"

"He may have a point, but don't worry. I'm putting Trotter and Jenkins on him."

That did make Chesbro feel a little better. Percy Trotter had eyes like a hawk and ears like that alien that was with the Titans, and while Tommy Jenkins wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he was big, strong, surprisingly quick, and highly loyal to Trotter. And they were, as far as Chesbro knew, clean. With them camped outside Roman's cell, Pierce would have to send a whole gang of men to get rid of Roman, if he indeed did want to get rid of him.

Then again…

"Khan, you really shouldn't make up evidence. Those magazines DIDN'T have Roman's fingerprints on them."

"So maybe he wore gloves. Didn't they find a box of surgical gloves in his bedroom as well?"

"I think so, but that doesn't meant that. It's those kinds of accusations that defense lawyers love to use to paint us as the bad guys."

"Well, I figured it might pay off if we rattled his tree and saw what fell out."

"Which was nothing in the end…but all right, fair enough. I'll get back to my end." Chesbro said. He winced inwardly as he heard the phrase, being reminded that he was on borrowed time before SOMEONE figured out he wasn't officially a cop any more. He left the room as he saw two other uniformed officers unlocking Roman from his chair so they could take him to a holding cell.

He wondered if that would keep the people Roman feared out.

Or if it would keep Roman IN.

---

Savior put away his cell and pulled out the communicator (man, he was really getting his money's worth out of this thing), contacting everybody who wasn't in the room with him.

"So far no good. They're holding Roman, but it's only a matter of time before he posts bail or something that makes him slip through their fingers. Unless they find something more concrete."

"So what do we do?" Beast Boy said.

"Keep doing the surveillance. Scalpel and I will refocus. We're going to look at everything that points to Roman as the suspect, and after that look at everything that points at him HELPING our suspects. Toby, Chesbro, the others…see if we can draw any connections."

"What is he isn't involved at ALL?" Terra asked.

"I suppose that's a possibility…but it hardly holds any water at the moment. We'll speak in a bit on switching around. Keep your eyes peeled. If Roman's a dead end, this could be a prime opportunity for Cauterize. Let's try not to get caught with our pants down." Savior said, and ended the communication. "Scalpel, did you send our primary data to Robin?"

"Actually…no. We were worried that if we used a computer in this place it could become compromised."

"WHAT?"

"You know it's true."

"Ok, fine, fine…" Savior said. "We'll send it by fax!"

"That could take forever."

"I know, that's why I'M doing it." Savior said.

"What, you're not punishing me?"

"I would, except I remember the LAST time you tried to use a fax machine."

(Flashback)

"THE MACHINE IS EATING MY PICTURES!"

"No Nigel don't…!"

CRASH!

"Take that, foul devourer of vacation memories!"

(End flashback)

"It's not my fault no one explained how a fax machine worked."

"Whatever." Savior said as he walked out.

---

Several hours passed, and night began to creep onto Light City, the sun being swallowed by the earth much like the moon had long been swallowed by the clouds around this blighted town.

Chesbro knew it was done when he, while leaning over a newspaper article, had noticed out of a corner of his eye two officers talking, a male and a female. He wouldn't have really cared, except when he had glanced at them, they had been looking at him, and then had turned away.

Chesbro knew that kind of position. The reserved posture and the eyes trying to look everywhere but where they wanted.

They knew. Maybe just in rumor, but they knew.

Chesbro sighed. Time to go.

He quickly gathered up his papers and acted like he was going to the copy room to have some work done on them, ignoring the two as they looked at him, ignoring that another officer had come up to speak to them. As Chesbro went around the corner, he thought he saw one of them point.

It didn't matter. He had what he needed. He'd gone to the armory and signed out a new gun (the guard was an old academy friend who didn't suspect a thing). He'd also gotten all the new data he needed (funny how he thought he had to go to the records room where he had stumbled over Roman when he could have just come back. Turnquist had apparently had some crisis on the way back and decided not to come in. Chesbro wasn't sure what was going on there…and at the moment he didn't care), and had recently checked up on Roman (still in his cell). The rest he could do at home…

For now…

There was still the problem of what he was going to do after this.

He had reached the garage by now, and he pulled out his keys and unlocked his car, sitting down.

And staying there.

When he had been a child, he had wanted his father to love him. When it had finally become clear that was never going to happen the way he wanted it to, he wanted to become like his uncle. And once he was a cop, he wanted to help people like his uncle had helped him.

Now that was gone.

What the hell was he going to do with his life?

…………He'd answer that later.

He inserted the key, started the engine, and drove off. No one tried to stop him. No one pointed at him and yelled "FRAUD!" He left the station without incident. No one followed him.

He looked at the papers in the seat next to him, trying to puzzle things out again. What was he missing…

And suddenly his vision started to blur, and drowsiness pervaded his mind.

"Aw no…" Chesbro said as he pulled over onto the street, trying to keep his eyes open. But the darkness was relentless…

"What's WRONG with me?" Chesbro asked himself.

And then the murk consumed him.

---

The Semi-Titans had had a relatively uneventful day as well, as they switched around their positions. Not much was done. The stuff they had theorized about Roman was nothing they hadn't theorized before, and looking at all the punks and killers that were lounging around the house, guns barely concealed in their coats and pants, and having to look after Stephen Pierce, who clearly wanted them gone and/or dead (but not even they realized how much so…) did not make for a very joyful time.

It was Scalpel's turn to guard Pierce, and all Pierce had done was write documents, trying to ignore the fact that he was there. All Scalpel had noticed was that Pierce had some kind of special pen. He'd write the documents with a normal pen, then take out a small gold-lined case he had in his inside jacket pocket, take out a gold and black pen, sign them, and then put it back. He'd done it at least a dozen times and it was beginning to make Scalpel antsy. He'd looked at the documents, but they looked legit, and none of them were leaving the room, so Scalpel assumed they were good, so to speak.

Beast Boy was back on surveillance, and Savior and Terra were currently doing research. Or they had been until ten minutes ago, until Terra broke down and said she was afraid that she had lost her chance with Beast Boy and she didn't know what to do. Had Savior had a little less control, he probably would have started banging his head against the wall. Instead, he sat and listened to Terra's lament about how she was worried she had scared Beast Boy off and she didn't know whether to repeat her actions or if what she felt was really going to be reciprocated or…

"Terra." Savior said in the middle of it.

"What?"

"Let me see if I can put this delicately…there are no conspiracies or mistaken identities or little green men trying to do everything they can to confuse you. What you saw was what there was. All I can say is that you should just do what you were going to do again."

"But…I don't know if I can."

Savior resisted the urge to mutter into his hand. Why him?

"Ok…what would help you do it?"

"I don't know."

The urge was a lot stronger now. Danger Will Robinson…hull is about to be breached…Savior thought, mashing together two sci-fi pop culture references.

"There must be something!"

"I don't know Savior…I know now…but I just can't…I wish…I need…why can't…I need a sign."

This time Savior had to resist the urge to make a sign with the Shimmer that said "KISS HIM YOU BLOCKHEAD!"

"Well Terra…ok…I think that your sign will come soon."
"Really?"

Yeah, and I'll also swear my loyalty to Kim Jong-Il and go hunting for the Fountain of Youth if YOU WILL JUST STOP BUGGING ME!

"Really Terra."

"But what will it be?"

That was it. He was going to lock them in a room. He had beaten around the bush long enough…

And then it all went to hell.

---

In the curtains in the room behind Savior, one of the men who had been in the Rolls when Pierce had originally made overtures to the teenager carefully drew a bead on the back of Savior's head. He was a great shot, and the teenager didn't have a clue…

---

And down in the precinct, the rumor about Chesbro had finally built up enough force to have the whole department buzzing and on edge, with no one getting the facts straight. All they knew was that Chesbro had been relieved of his duties, yet he had so brazenly come back to the department afterward as if nothing had happened, bringing Roman with him. The fact that Turnquist wasn't answering his phone just made it worse. Theories were circulating with everything that Chesbro and Roman were working together to that Chesbro had murdered Turnquist and disposed of his body.

Officer Percy Trotter didn't care much. He took his duty very seriously, and that was to watch Roman Fernendez. But even duty had to be shirked for certain things. Like getting a drink of water.

"Be gone for just a bit Tommy." Trotter said.

"Ok." Tommy Jenkins replied, not moving from where he was sitting.

Trotter headed for the door at the end of the hallway, opened it and walked out. He didn't close the door, and it was the kind that took a while to close. He walked over to the sink, filled a paper cup…

And the door suddenly slammed open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges. The cup went flying as Trotter jumped and then turned, drawing his gun as another blast of noise erupted…from within the holding cell.

"TOMMY!" Trotter yelled, running in.

There was a slight haze of smoke in the holding cell room, but far from enough to keep Percy Trotter from seeing the inside of the room.

Jenkins was on the floor next to his seat, face down. The cell that he had been so carefully watching's door was now swung open, the lock a mangled mess as if someone had set off a bomb in it.

And Roman Fernendez was gone.

"SHIT! Tommy!" Trotter said, running over to his partner and friend and checking him for a pulse. He found a strong one, and a moan escaping the big man allayed his fears…which quickly morphed into new worries over what had just happened.

"Tommy?"

"Uh…Per…someone hit me…didn't see a thing…Roman was in his cell and then there was a bang and then…" Tommy muttered, holding the back of his head.

Several officers exploded through the door, almost getting jammed together in the narrow entrance, Lieutenant Fielding close behind.

"What the hell is going on?" he yelled, before he saw the cell. His eyes widened.

"SHIT! The bastard WAS Cauterize! He broke out! Call those teenagers! Get everyone up to Pierce's house! MOVE!" Fielding yelled, and the police station quickly became a madhouse as everyone reacted to this sudden event.

"…SWAT together…"

"…Call Turnquist…"

"…Chesbro do something…"

"…Any more holes…"

"…Call the house…"

"Everyone except the injured and the few on desk duty arm up and MOVE! The bastard is NOT getting away with this one!" Fielding ordered to the men running around.

"Chief!"

"Have the SWAT team go in first maybe they can get someone with the tear gas…"

"Lieutenant!"

"What do you mean you can't find your gun FORGET IT GET ONE FROM YOU…!"

"FIELDING!"

"WHAT!"

"THE DOORS WON'T OPEN!"

"WHAT?" Fielding yelled at the flush faced officer that had just come back up the stairs. "That can't be right! The doors don't have locks!"

"They won't open! Front OR back! The garage doors are sealed shut too! It's like someone took a welding torch to them!"

"WELL THEN GET THE BATTERING RAM! MOVE! NOW!" Fielding screamed, and moved over to the desk. "Officer, give me the phone!"

"Sir…the phones are dead too." The rookie desk clerk replied.

"GOD DAMNIT! The bastard must have been sitting in there planning this for hours! DOES ANYONE HAVE A CELL PHONE!?!?!?" Fielding yelled, swinging his arms and accidentally knocking over one of the thin metal spike things that some people stick messages on. "OW!"

"Sorry Lieutenant." The desk clerk said, retrieving the fallen message holder.

"That's ok kid, my fault. What are those anyway? Are they important?" Fielding said, abruptly switching gears, perhaps to provide a slight respite from the lunacy around him as the LCPD fought to get out of their own building.

"Nothing really sir. The only real thing of notice is some woman who keeps calling. Been calling since 3 o'clock, says her son was supposed to come back and didn't and she's afraid something happened to him. I keep telling her a person has to be missing for 24 hours before we can file a report, but she won't stop calling. She's scared sick, and if I may so, I think she's not the most mentally stable person."

"Mothers. Well fine, we'll probably have to deal with her. Maybe after this, if I remember! What was her name?"

"Miranda Garigen."

---

The noise rang through the room.

But not a gunshot. No. What interrupted the silence just before Savior would have possibly been shot was a loud noise that came from OUTSIDE the room, and outside the house. The two teenagers jerked up at the noise, and the man behind the curtain did likewise. Only the distraction of the two teenagers kept him from being seen.

"What the hell was that?" Savior said.

"Was that a bomb?"

"Why would we be being bombed? God damnit!" Savior said, running out of the room, Terra following. The gunman stepped out from behind the curtain a few seconds later and breathed a sigh of relief.

Beast Boy had been flying around the rear of the house when the blast had lit up the night to his right, and he himself had been startled, rearing up and squawking much like the hawk would have (though he was actually an owl, but he had just BEEN a hawk and…moving on…).

"What the hell?" he said, flying over to the edge of Pierce's property.

Yes, he could see it. There was a fire…over at the chemical plants?

"What the hell was that?" Pierce was yelling, as Scalpel strained to see. He'd also caught the blast out of the corner of his eye, and was now at the far corner of the room so he could look at the chemical plants at the proper angle.

"I think someone just attacked those chemical plants." Scalpel said.

"They did?" Pierce said, looking genuinely confused, and then Savior and Terra burst through the door.

"Scalpel, what was that?"

"From what I can see it was some kind of…"

And then a small form smashed through the window, a little green ridged ball that hit the ground and rolled for a bit, before Beast Boy unfurled from his armadillo form and returned to normal, as Scalpel backed away from the falling glass.

"Hey! Those are expensive!" Pierce yelled.

"Cram it! Guys, I think someone just bombed or otherwise blew up the chemical factories, or at least part of them." Beast Boy said.

"Really? Shit!" Savior cursed. Could they have been wrong all along? Was the Pierce warning a feint? Or was this a feint?

"Pierce, are there any chemicals in that factories that could cause serious problems?"

"What?"

"IS THERE ANYTHING THAT EXPLOSIONS WILL TURN INTO A KILLER FLESH EATING CLOUD OR SOMETHING!!!!!!!" Savior yelled.

"How should I know?" Pierce snapped.

"Right, of course…ok…Beast Boy, Terra, go to the factories. If you see anything coming out of the damaged area, DON'T APPROACH! If not, check to see what was damaged. Scalpel, you stay with me. If this is an attempt to get us to leave, it's not going to work. If Cauterize wants Pierce, he's going to have to work for it. Go! Quickly!"

Terra and Beast Boy did so, as a rock came flying through the same window Beast Boy had gone through, smashing the surviving part to bits and drawing another protest from Pierce as they flew off on it.

"Scalpel, watch the window! I'll take the door!" Savior said.

"What about my men?" Pierce asked.

"If they have any brains at all, they'll know what to do." Savior said.

---

The chemical factories owned by Shawkcorktenningwillis Inc were a pretty depressing place, with dull colors and a large wall build around the perimeter that made the place seem like a prison. Maybe it was due to the fact that part of the stretches of lovely beach that Light City had was just behind its back walls and they didn't want the workers running off to frolic in the surf.

It didn't take Beast Boy and Terra long to find the source of the explosion, and the fact that there were men running around it pretty much cleared up the worry of toxic chemical smoke.

The fire had gone out by now, just leaving a smoking pile of rubble next to some battered pieces of heavy machinery that had been barraged by shrapnel. The two landed next to a man with white hair and a very large mustache, nearly giving him a heart attack.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"It's ok! We're here to help!"

"What in the good lord's name are YOU?" Mustache asked.

"People who can help. What just happened?"

"Not sure…but I think someone just blew up our old smokestack!"

"Is that bad?"

"Well…no!"

"What? Why?" Terra asked.

"You see that?" Mustache said, pointing at the battered heavy machinery. "We just used ol' Essie to pull out the old one and replace it! Old one kept getting blocked up! I don't know WHY someone would want to blow it up, we were going to demolish it anyway!"

"…..He's right, that does make no sense." Beast Boy said.

"Savior?"

"Yep." Beast Boy said in mutual consent of having their leader puzzle out the question, as the old communicator came out again.

---

"They blew up an old SMOKESTACK?" Savior said.

"Come to think of it, the blast did look like it came from the back of the factory. Which makes no sense, there's nothing vital back there to damage." Pierce remarked, looking out his windows at the scene in the distance.

"I thought you didn't know anything." Scalpel said. Pierce gave him a glare. Scalpel glared back.

"Well ok, WHATEVER reason that place was blown up, there might be other bombs. Look for them."

"How do we know Cauterize didn't just run through the damn thing?"

"Too much ommpph. That was an actual explosive being used. If there aren't any toxic fumes Beast Boy, then I wanted you to approach the rubble…"

"Uh…ok…" Beast Boy said, walking up to the smoking, ruined stone wreckage.

"Press a button on the side of your communicator…no, the green one…" Savior said.

And then he felt it. What felt like a brief bit of air…

Savior threw the communicator away and threw out the Shimmer, lashing several lines across the room…

Only to find nothing there.

"What's wrong?" Scalpel asked.

"Wind. How's Pierce?"

"I'm FINE!" Pierce snapped from the chair he was sitting in again. "HEY! What are you doing!" he yelled as Scalpel leaned over and began prodding at him.

"Making sure everything is still attached. Arms…legs…torso…" Scalpel said, and then thudded Pierce lightly on his forehead.

"OW!"

"Cranium. Looks like he's still alive Savior. Must have just been normal wind…"

"I wish…" Savior muttered, picking up his communicator. "Sorry, bit of paranoia there."

"I gathered. Something popped out of the communicator."

"Yes, I want you to find a small pierce of stone, very small, from the rubble, and put that in the extension, and then push it back in."

"Ok…doing so…what's this going to do?"

"It's going to scan for traces of whatever explosive was used to do this and then turn itself into a tracker of said explosive, which will HOPEFULLY allow you to search for any other bombs. Unless a different kind of explosive was used in each ONE, but even THAT I find doubtful…"

"The T-Communicator can DO that?"

"It can do all SORTS of things. Didn't you ever read the manual?" Savior asked.

Silence.

"Right, dumb question. Anyway, what does it say?"

"Nothing yet…wait, it says analyzed. Now what do I do?"

"Scan it around."

At the chemical plant, Beast Boy did so.

"It's not doing anything."

"If it works properly, when it starts tracing the explosive it will start beeping."

"Are you sure…I would think…" Beast Boy said as he slowly spun around.

And then it started beeping.

"It's working." He said.

"Ok, check around and see if it beeps any other way."

Beast Boy did so.

"No. Just one way."

"Good. That means just one more bomb. Follow it."

"All right." Beast Boy said as he followed the beeping, Terra and Mustache trailing behind him. "What do I do when I do find it?"

"Well we'll…"

And then a cell phone started ringing.

Savior looked up. It wasn't his phone…was Scalpel carrying a cell…

Then his eyes slid onto Stephen Pierce, who looked rather surprised himself.

"Man, you REALLY are a sneaky bastard…"

"NO! I don't have a phone!" Pierce yelled.

"Oh, so you're just ringing?"

"I don't have a phone! I don't know what this is!" Pierce said, standing up and hunting for whatever was ringing.

"Man, you really are…" Savior said, and trailed off. "Oh no."

"What Savior?" Scalpel asked.

"It wasn't a normal gust of wind."

Pierce had finally located the ringing and removed it to reveal a small cell phone.

"WAIT!" Savior said.

"What?" he asked.

"If that's not your phone…where do you think it came from?"

Pierce looked at Savior, and then a look of horror came over his face. The cell phone continued to ring.

"Let me answer it." Savior said, throwing out the Shimmer and grabbing the phone. He encased it in a bubble and then carefully opened it.

It didn't explode, so Savior, for lack of anything better to do, handed it back to Stephen Pierce.

"…..Hello?" he said.

"Good evening Mr. Pierce." Said Cauterize.

---

"The beeping gets louder this way. I think the other bomb is in that building." Beast Boy said.

"What's in that place?" Terra asked Mustache.

"Nothing! A bunch of old tools! I don't know why anyone would want to blow THAT up!"

"Why indeed. Ok buddy, you may wanna clear out. Just in case." Beast Boy said. Mustache didn't need another warning: he promptly skedaddled.

Beast Boy followed the beeping communicator, focused on the task and not noticing that Savior had stopped speaking to him.

Terra by his side, Beast Boy opened the door, flicked on the overhead light and followed the beeps. It got louder and louder until it became a numbing buzz, which ended with him in a corner with a few wooden boxes covered by a tarp.

"Ok…" Beast Boy said, as he closed the communicator, and then he grabbed the tarp and carefully lifted it off.

The bomb was a small metal box with a timer in the center. It didn't appear to be hooked up to anything, so Beast Boy assumed that whatever explosive it had was in the box. The timer said 25:00.

"Whew. Good job BB! You found it!" Terra said.

"Great, now what do we do with it?"

"Well…it doesn't seem to be attached to anything, maybe we can just…" Terra said as she walked over and reached out. Beast Boy's eyes widened.

"TERRA, NO!"

Too late: Terra had already grasped the sides and lifted the bomb up.

A rapid beeping from the bomb told Terra that she had messed up. And the intense stickiness she was suddenly feeling confirmed that yes, she had really messed up.

"Ah! Terra!" Beast Boy said. "Put it down!"

Terra tried…and found she couldn't move her hands.

"AH! THERE'S GLUE ON IT!"

"Glue?"

"My hands are stuck to the bomb!"

"Well take off your gloves!"

"I can't! The glue soaked right through them! It's stuck tight!"

"Ah man, why is it always me and bombs?" Beast Boy said. "Well ok Terra don't panic, the timer hasn't started yet and even if it does you still have 25 minutes…

The 2 in the 25:00 suddenly became a 1.

"Er, fifteen minutes?"

The 1 suddenly became a zero.

"AH! FIVE MINUTES!"

And then it became…something. It looked like 6h:00.

"Six H minutes?" Beast Boy said in confusion.

And then Terra twisted her hands and arms and turned the bomb upside down.

00:48.

"AH! The bomb was upside down! It wasn't set for twenty five minutes, it was set for fifty-two seconds!" Terra said. "Beast Boy, help!" She yelled as she began to thrash, trying to get the bomb off her hands. But the glue held tight.

"Terra!" he yelled, reaching for her hands.

"Don't touch it you'll get stuck too!" Terra said, pulling the bomb away from her. "Gar, help me!"

"But…I…Terra…" he said.

"Gar, please. I don't want to die…" Terra whispered, tears leaking from her eyes.

Beast Boy stared at her, waiting for an answer, a solution, a miracle…

But none came.

Like an event in his past, the timer continued to tick down.

And chances are, this time there was a real explosive awaiting.

00:41…00:40…00:39…