The Cutting Edge Chapter 8: Run Out, a teen titans fanfic

Part 8: Run Out

Dr. Peter Radney had been coroner of Light City for the better part of six years, and he'd seen some pretty messy things. Shotgun suicides. OD's on drugs mixed with unpleasant things that one shouldn't put in one's body. Burn victims. Twice he'd seen the result of some metahuman's power on a human body, which could affect it in ways that normal humans couldn't comprehend. He was no shrinking violet.

But even he felt ill when he looked at the shattered ruin that had once been Toby Garigen, placed on the cold metal table. Three actually. One held what was left of his body, the second held identifiable parts (mostly bones) that had been removed from the truck, and the third held what was left that the police and various others had managed to scrape from the scene (which was a lot).

"What happened to this poor bastard?" He asked.

"He fought a truck. The truck won." Savior said grimly. He and Scalpel had been the only ones who had been willing to watch this: Terra was STILL throwing up, and it had been nearly 18 hours since the brutal ending to their second battle with Cauterize, and Beast Boy wasn't much better. But Savior didn't mind. He didn't mind a lot at the moment: his attitude was rather nihilistic.

"So…this was the terrible Cauterize huh?" Dr. Radney said, as he quickly recovered his professional poise and stepped up, looking at Toby's body. "Why didn't he just dodge out of the way?"

"We wore him down too much. He became exhausted, unable to constantly use the Speed Force, the power that gave him his quickness. So when he used it to dodge one of my blows…he inadvertently backed into this. And well…" Scalpel said, and trailed off.

"I see." Dr. Radney said. "Well, I'm not sure what you're attempting to find here. There's not a lot left…and besides, you know the cause of death. You witnessed it first hand."

"I'm not sure myself doctor." Savior said quietly. "But I think it's better then the alternative."

The alternative was actually rather boring.

Roman Fernendez had been found in one of the lockers in the police station, tied up and tightly gagged, to the point where he probably would have suffocated over time had they not located him. Said location had come when the first police officers had been returning from the scene of the crime after they finally broke out of their own police station, a station Toby had sealed them in after he had faked Roman's "breakout". He'd apparently brought a bunch of metal rods that he had superheated with his speed, melting them and fusing them against all the doors and windows of the building. The police had been quite gung ho when they had finally smashed their way out and headed for the battle scene…but by the time they arrived it had been over for nearly ten minutes. Looking at the battered and aghast Titans, and what remained of the vigilante they had known as Cauterize, it hadn't taken much for the macho, let's kick some ass attitude to die down.

Ten minutes later Garry Turnquist had shown up, having heard of the chaos on his personal police scanner. Apparently, that was all the motivation he needed to finally make his decision, as he resumed command from Lieutenant Fielding and took charge of the scene and cleanup. Since most of the officers had been needed in case of (and presumed great deal of) trouble, the fact that Cauterize was dead allowed Turnquist to send them home. So, coming down from the adrenaline rush (and most secretly glad the battle was finished when they had arrived), they had headed back to the station, and a large group decided to take showers…and low and behold one of them had opened their locker and Fernendez had fallen out, negating the need to start asking questions of where he was if Toby Garigen had been Cauterize.

The Semi-Titans had stayed at the scene for nearly two hours, answering questions, helping with the cleanup, and after the media had shown up, keeping them at bay. Cleaning up what was left of Toby was an extremely difficult task, and highly unpleasant at that.

Savior had expected, at some point, for Chesbro to show up.

He never had.

Once it was all done, Turnquist had suggested the Titans get some sleep and had two of his men drive them back to the Titans' old hotel. The Titans had crashed there, sleeping for nearly ten hours.

More details had emerged when they woke up, as the city reeled from the events of the previous night.

But the most damning was what the police had found when they had arrived to pick up Miranda Garigen and take her down to the station to identify her son's body (Savior grimaced: he had heard they had had to show her a picture and even THAT had put her into a hysterical insanity. They had had to give her a sedative), as well as search the Garigen house.

The basement had been a tricked out workshop, with several different power tool setups, all neatly arranged around a base of operations. Not only had the police found spare metals, fabrics, and other materials, they'd found three sets of back-up swords identical to the kind Cauterize used, two spare costumes, a spare helmet, and an altered treadmill that apparently went at a speed that was ten times faster then the normal fastest setting on such devices (Savior assumed that was for workouts, most likely light ones). Along with that had been a computer that was still being sifted through, but it was filled with data that mirrored the collection Roman Fernendez had…and a diary, in which there were several long entries. Savior had taken a look, and read of a sordid little tale of an egomaniac desperate to regain the adoration of the masses. Exactly how Toby discovered the Speed Force was not clear: he spoke of one night where he had discovered "that this truly is my destiny" and after that had started theorizing on how to regain his glory, which had eventually ended with the conclusion that he had to clean up his city. His father, who was calmer but in no less pain then his wife, had identified the diary as having his son's handwriting. When questioned about the workshop, he had said that the basement "was Toby's room" and they never went down there…because, after all, he was doing nothing but running, right?

It made Savior sad all over again. Here was a set of parents who clearly cared about their son…yet in the end they knew nothing about him…

Yet…they were hardly the sole proprietors of that fault. Savior had suspected Toby, but it had been more of his nodding to Occam's Razor then any true belief. After all, he was a runner, not to mention he didn't act like Cauterize did. Didn't that almost make it a certainty that Toby was just a red herring?

In the end, it looked like Noel should have paid more attention to said Razor. Toby's attitude was apparently a hide in plain sight tactic, and he apparently had more intelligence and patience then anyone could have imagined. Amazing the things people can hide…

And yet…

And that was why Savior was here with Scalpel. Despite the proof, something was nagging at Savior. The pieces…fit too well. In real life, there was always something that no one could puzzle out, something people had to ultimately forget about because they couldn't figure it out.

There were no loose ends like this.

"Doctor…" Savior said, as Radney looked up at him. "Can you tell from what's left of his chest if there were burns on it?"

"I'll try…" Dr. Radney replied, though it was easier said then done: Toby's chest was pretty much shredded to nothing. But Dr. Radney was nothing if not stubborn, as he carefully examined the ruined torso, occasionally taking a sample.

"We might have some burn tissue here…let me take a closer look…" Dr. Radney said as he headed over to a nearby microscope. He carefully placed one of the samples on a slide and took a look. The two teens wandered over to watch.

"Might have something…let me check another one…" Dr. Radney said as he removed the slide, prepared another one, and examined it. "Well, it appears that there's burn tissue here…probably. It's hard to tell when a body's been so badly pulped like this." He said, as he leaned back to let the teenagers take a look. Scalpel did so.

"I agree. It looks like burn tissue to me." He said after several seconds.

"Hmmmmm…which arm did you say was burned Scalpel?" Savior asked.

"The right one. But good luck verifying that." Scalpel said, as he gestured to the jars of unidentifiable tissue that lay on one of the tables. Cauterize's right arm had pretty much ceased to exist in the crash, and now lay intermingled with god knows what other parts of his body.

"Can you separate the tissues doctor?" Savior asked.

"I can, if you can get me to a better facility and give me about three weeks to spare."

"I doubt the mother will go for that." Spoke a voice, and Savior and Scalpel turned as Garry Turnquist walked into the room.

"Hello chief. Are you sure of that?" Scalpel asked.

"Because she's woken up and is already screaming that we murdered her son because we couldn't catch the real Cauterize. When we tried to calm her down she assaulted two of my officers, and when your fellows tried to help get her under control she nearly clawed your ally Beast Boy's eyes out. She thinks that you orchestrated the so called murder." Turnquist said in a resigned tone.

"Lovely." Savior said. "So…what? You want us to hang around until this issue works out?"

"I don't think you need to." Turnquist said, as he turned slightly and looked at the body. If he was sickened, he kept it well hidden.

"Why not?" Scalpel asked.

"I don't think she'll be…maintaining her pose." Turnquist said darkly. Scalpel looked confused, and projected his feeling at Savior…who looked a bit puzzled himself…before he figured out what Turnquist was getting at. And it wasn't foul play. Rather, just the fact that Turnquist though that Miranda Garigen was so screwed up when it came to her son that she'd probably lose her mind before she could bring a lawsuit together. It was a depressing possibility, and it just made Savior's mood worsen.

"Come on Scalpel. We've learned all we can here." Savior said. "Chief, could I speak to you outside?"

"Certainly." Turnquist said, as he turned away from the body and headed for the door out of the morgue.

"Thank you doctor." Scalpel said as he also left.

"You're welcome." Dr. Radney replied, and then he went back to examining something in his microscope.

He didn't notice Savior stop by the body again, looking down at the glassy eyes.

"Was it worth it Toby?" He whispered to himself. "Or…was it something YOU never understood?"

And then he left.

"I'm ok. Really." Beast Boy said, holding the wrapped paper towels to his cheek. He'd received the wound from Miranda Garigen after she had woken up. She had seemed calm at first, so the police had tried to ask her some questions…and then she had completely flown off the handle and become as vicious as any harpy from myth, screaming so loud Beast Boy had sworn the windows were going to shatter that they had framed her boy, murdered him, all because he was special and they couldn't stand it, and on and on in a mindless rant even as she was being held down so they could give her another sedative. Her husband, whose name Beast Boy hadn't caught, had hovered around during the whole mess, not doing much, as if resigned that there was nothing he could do. While trying to keep her from hurting herself, Beast Boy had been hurt instead, as she seized on him as one of the masterminds of the terrible conspiracy that had sacrificed her boy because they were incompetent and evil. As a result, Beast Boy's mood wasn't much better then Savior's, as he sat in the small empty office, the door closed, as he pondered the terrible waste of it all. Toby, a mass murderer, dead himself, his mother a broken shell…not to mention all the other people who has lost things. It was times like this that Beast Boy had wished he had gone into show business instead of becoming a superhero. The empty, hollow pleasures of a superstar life might have seemed undesirable to someone with brains…but sometimes it sounded a lot better then this world filled with power and corruption and people corrupted by power, one way or another.

"You don't look ok." Terra said, as she dabbed around the edges of the paper towel Beast Boy was holding with one of her own, though the lack of anything appearing on her towel should have indicated that she was being overprotective.

"I'm fine. In physical terms anyway." Beast Boy said. He took the towel away from his cheek: there was some blood on it, but not much. It appeared the blood had finally clotted and closed the wound. He rolled up the towel into a crumpled ball and tossed it into the garbage bin several feet away. He did not say anything more, but his dark look said enough.

"You want to talk about it?" Terra asked, backing away a bit and sitting on the desk that Beast Boy was currently behind.

"What's there to talk about? We failed on every front. Cauterize killed everyone he set out to kill and we can't even bring him to justice because he didn't look both ways before he crossed the street. That poor woman has lost her son, and probably her mind. And in his death…who knows, Toby may become a martyr to those who have seen too much pain and hurt where they live and decide to do something about it." Beast Boy said, in a tone that was highly uncharacteristic of his usual good humor. "So, all in all…what did this accomplish?"

"Oh…I think it accomplished something…" Terra said, as she shifted off the desk and onto Beast Boy's lap. Beast Boy looked up as she leaned down.

Her lips were soft and sweet, with just a hint of orange. The two kissed for a bit.

"Yeah…I suppose we should take it where we can." Beast Boy said when she broke off.

"I think, in the end, that this will last longer then anything Cauterize did." Terra said, and kissed Gar again.

And then the door was opening.

"…guys I think I could…" Savior said as he stepped in. Terra's eyes widened a bit and she jerked away in surprise, as the two turned their heads and looked at Savior, who had stopped in mid-coming in. For a few seconds the three looked at each other.

"Well, IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME!" Savior yelled, throwing his hands up, and then he grabbed the door handle and swung the door shut with a bang as he exited again. A second later, Beast Boy and Terra heard the door locking.

"I'd say that's his blessing." Beast Boy said, looking back at Terra.

"And blessed we are." Terra replied, and resumed the kiss.

"Chief I need a new room." Savior said, walking back down to the large black man at the end of the hallway.

"What's wrong with that one?"

"Nothing and everything! Trust me." Savior said. Scalpel looked confused.

"Well Savior, besides that, all we can really give you is the interrogation room."

"Fine. It's fitting anyway." Savior said. "I need to get this out of the way in any way I can…thank god it's the last thing, I have too many other things already stuck in my craw…"

"Excuse me…" Scalpel interrupted. "Before I forget, Chief, shouldn't you contact Chesbro and see if you can settle that…problem?"

Turnquist's face looked over at Scalpel, his expression a tad grim.

"I've tried. I heard Chesbro came back here after I…made my mistake, acted like nothing had happened when he found Roman and brought him in. But word spreads…and just when the rumor was starting to gather steam he left. No one's seen him since. Several people have called his house, including me. No one's answered. I've sent two units past. They say the house is completely dark, nothing moving inside at all."

"So where is he?" Scalpel asked.

"I don't know…" Turnquist replied.

"Why didn't you just have someone kick his door down to be sure?" Savior asked.

Turnquist fixed Savior with the look of a teacher catching a child cheating on a test.

"It would at least let us know if he was there!" Savior said defensively.

"And if he was there, I think it would be the final insult." Turnquist replied. He didn't elaborate on how, but Savior had a pretty good idea. "Chesbro's a good officer…even considering what happened. He'll keep his ear to the ground, and I'm sure he'll show up eventually." Turnquist said.

"If you say so." Savior replied.

Turnquist was about to say something when another police officer came up to the group.

"Sir, I'm afraid the interrogation room is being used at the moment." He said.

"Damnit. You want something else?" Turnquist asked.

"I can wait." Savior replied.

"Savior, might I ask what was wrong with the previous room?" Scalpel asked as Turnquist walked away to do something else. Savior leaned over and whispered a few sentences in his ear.

"Ohhhhh…well thank yuoiy! I was just about getting ready to lock them in a room with a box of condoms." Scalpel said, mimicking Savior unintentionally as he threw up his hands.

"If only all relationships could be that simple. God knows mine would have gotten a much quicker and more fun start." Savior said.

And even though he knew better, he checked behind himself to see if Raven had appeared.

She had not.

Apparently.

The house that Jonathon Chesbro owned, inherited from his parents, both dead, may have seemed dark and empty. It was definitely dark, but it wasn't empty.

Chesbro sat in the basement of the house. It had no windows, and the only light in the basement was a small desk lamp that Chesbro had turned on, albeit at its lowest setting. It was understandable that the police that had been sent by his house would have thought he wasn't there, and at the moment he didn't really want company.

The basement was his work area, and it was where he had spent the last fourteen hours.

He doubted he could have left if he had wanted to, as he leaned on his desk, his arms crossed and his chin resting on his two outstretched thumbs as the rest of his fingers laced over his lower face. His eyes were bloodshot, but still very alert. He had not showered, shaved, or changed his clothes in the past few days. He couldn't. His whole being was consumed by what ran through him now.

…see…

He'd woken up in his police car shortly after he'd dozed off…or so he thought. His body ached all over, but he had expected that: he had fallen asleep sitting up right in a car, not the healthiest position, even when you're young, and especially when you've been pushing yourself hard for several days. Chesbro came to trying to hold onto fleeting glimpses of things he had seen, crazy dreams…

…not dreams…

But it had all quickly vanished into the ether as his body complained about his dozing off. It was a good thing all the criminals were in hiding due to Cauterize, or else Chesbro sitting there in his police car in a deep daze would have made an irresistible target.

Especially considering when Chesbro checked the dashboard clock and found to his shock he had been asleep for nearly two hours.

As shocking as that was, it didn't even compare to what had happened when Chesbro, old habits dying hard, had turned on the police radio. It was about then he realized that he was no longer a police officer and hence didn't have to report where he had disappeared to, only then it was already on…and then the insanity pouring out of his band had made him forget his original reason.

And so Chesbro had sat there, for nearly forty minutes, listening to all the reports and learning what had happened.

Stephen Pierce was dead, his house blown to smithereens. Very preliminary reports suggested that Pierce had actually had all his "workers" and "aides" in the house when it had blown: the wreckage had only begun to be dug through. The explosives had been courtesy of the vigilante, who was, according to the reports, dead too: he had engaged in another battle with the teenage metahumans and they had apparently worn him out enough so that he had fallen out of his speed state at a very bad time, which had resulted in what was being described as a "horrific" death.

It was near the end that a name finally came through: Toby Garigen.

At the sound of the name, it happened again. The blackness swarmed up, not giving any indication of its coming presence, but instead doing the equivalent of sneaking up behind Chesbro and whacking him on the back of his head with a hammer. He fell forward…

…eyes…

His head hit the steering wheel, and the blackness was chased away by the pain as Chesbro abruptly came back to life, the image he had seen fading fast. He tried to hang onto it, but it was swiftly gone, as swiftly as…

…the vigilante…

Chesbro jerked up, as blood began to flow slowly from his nose. He put a hand to his face and took it away, gazing dumbly at it. He had a nosebleed. But he never got nosebleeds…

Much like he never had before constantly been dozing off and waking up, his mind awash in strange images he couldn't place or remember…

It had occurred to Chesbro that with Pierce dead, he might have wanted to turn around and head back to the police station, speak to Turnquist, find out what was going on now…

But he couldn't.

Because…

He couldn't explain it, as he started his car back up and started driving again, hoping he didn't get hit with another sudden blackout…

…not blackouts…

He had to get home. To sleep, at least.

But when he had gotten home, he had found himself drawn to his study, to his notes, to all the information he had gathered, once again looking at it all and wondering what was he missing…

The only call he made was to another old department friend. This one worked in records. Jonathon Chesbro wanted a few things, no, he needed them, even if it exposed him in some way…

…what exposure are you worrying about…

The friend said he would do what he could, and so far he had delivered everything he had promised via email and fax…except one.

And so Chesbro had sat there, wondering why he couldn't fall asleep now, wondering what had gotten into him. He didn't have any kind of mental disorder, at least according to the doctor. Yet he was still blacking out. WHY?

And why did he feel the need to sit down here, looking at all his gathered information, when the Cauterize case was closed? He'd turned on his scanner a few times, heard the chatter and gossip. They'd found the evidence, lots of it, and the vigilante was irrefutably dead. So why keep thinking…

…you don't need to think…

The fax machine began to whir, and Chesbro turned his tired eyes to it. That would be the last bit. Maybe once he had it all together, he could finally put to rest this strange uneasiness that gnawed at him…

He did not get out of his chair: instead he whirled on its pivoting spring and rolled towards the fax machine as his last request began to emerge from it

It was a good thing.

It meant he had less distance to fall.

As his eyes fell on it…

And then his head and what he knew once again fell into the blackness.

"Why am I still here?" Roman Fernendez said, his voice part complaining, part outrage, part resignment, part exhaustion, part boredom, and just a smidgeon of whining. While our blacked out…friend Chesbro may have been a bit disheveled, Roman Fernendez was ten times so, his time spent hiding in the records basement added on top of being shoved in a jail cell, then knocked out, tied up and stuffed in a locker, and then untied and only giving some human courtesy for about ten minutes before he was stuffed back in a jail cell to get him out of the way as the chaos rose once more in the police department, only to finally be allowed out…and stuck in the same interrogation room where his loudly proclaimed innocence had fallen on deaf ears. He had only been there for thirty seconds though, before he had company: Savior, the white haired and garbed leader of the four metahumans who the late Geoffrey Tercero had called to deal with Cauterize. And from what Roman had heard, they had succeeded.

"You tell me." Savior replied.

"Well, seeing how the vigilante is dead, I assume it is due to some kind of group sadism. Considering I'm now mayor of this city, that's really not very wise. But I'll be forgiving…if you let me out right now." Roman said.

Savior seemed more interested in a spot on the table he was rubbing with his fingernail then what Roman was saying. A slight flash of anger bloomed on Roman's features.

"Look, I know you may feel aloof to my discomfort, considering that you probably had a hand in my arrest and imprisonment on false charges, and since you don't work out of this area you know you can just leave to escape any retaliation I choose to make, but I have been undoubtedly cleared of any possibility because…"

"Oh yeah, you certainly seem cleared. We found all the gear, computer records, even a Chicken Soup For The Murdering Vigilante's Soul in Garigen's house. Pretty cut and dried." Savior said in an absent minded tone.

"Then why…"

"Except for one thing."

"What?" Roman said, clearly exhasperated.

"I mean, some people are telling us how could we not see it was Garigen. I mean, he was a champion runner…in a town that had turned on him when his injury forced him to stop running…a former prince of his school that was desperate to regain the worshipped status he once had…"

"So?"

"So…I just find it strange that Garigen was able to get all the information he had."

"He had super speed."

"True…but superhuman speed will only take you so far. No…to get the kind of information he had…you need a few more things. You need…connections. Connections Toby did not have." Savior said, finally looking up at Roman, who was finally understanding where Savior was going with this. "Yet…despite this fact, that Toby was just some kid in a high school with average grades and no outside interests other then his running…he had a great deal of information…information that you yourself had in that little room of yours."

"Look…" Roman said. "I know you must think it sounds ridiculous, but I have TOLD you…"

"Right…the room was therapy."

"Exactly."

"Bullshit."

"What?" Roman said, as Savior stood up.

"You claim that room and all the data in it was your way of making peace. Yet when did you say you started gathering the information?"

"About six months ago…"

"Why six months? Why not earlier?"

"I don't know! It was just about that time…"

"That you finally came up with the plan, didn't you?" Savior said. "I spoke with Principal Tugwell, Roman. He confirmed you made all those visits listed in your appointment books…and you spent a lot of time wandering around the school. You told him you liked the nostalgia. Only I don't think it was nostalgic."

"IT…"

"Did you find him out, or did he come to you?" Savior went on. "How much teaching did you have to give him for him to project such a false front? You certainly know all too well how to put forth an image that is the exact opposite of who you really are, what you really feel. How many months did you sit there and eat shit with Tercero and have to keep grinning? I'll bet Toby was a godsend. But the thing is Roman, godsends are often sent from the wrong angle, if you catch my drift."

"You're babbling. You must have suffered a head injury Savior. You've grown paranoid…" Roman said, his voice soothing.

"PARANOID?!?!??!?!" Savior yelled. "TOBY GARIGEN IS DEAD! WE CAN NEVER BRING HIM TO JUSTICE FOR HIS CRIMES! OUR LONE CHANCE TO AT LEAST BRING SOME SENSE INTO THIS WHOLE MESS THAT YOUR CITY HAD BECOME AND IT'S SNATCHED AWAY! WE CAN'T TAKE IT BACK! NONE OF IT! AND NOW WE HAVE TO LIVE WITH IT! COMPARED TO THAT, I WOULD PREFER PARANOIA!"

Savior stopped, breathing heavily.

Roman looked rather startled, but when Savior's yelling did not continue, he spoke up again.

"Well…all things considered…isn't that better?"

Savior looked at Roman like he had just made an extremely crude comment about his mother. Roman, like many people in these kinds of situations, instinctively kept talking when what he really should have done was shut up.

"I mean…he's dead. He'll never break out of prison, never come back for revenge, never harm another person…if he stays dead…but despite that…isn't it just better if…"

Savior suddenly grabbed the table with the Shimmer and threw it aside, even as more links grabbed Roman by the front of his filthy suit and yanked him up with a scream to bring him face to face with Savior.

"Toby Garigen may have been an egotistical cold-blooded killer, but he could still serve a purpose. And it wasn't to terrorize this town and bath it in the blood of criminals. It was that people who choose that path must ultimately learn that their choice is wrong and they must bear the consequence of it. If we could have captured him alive, we could have shown that despite all its flaws, all its failings, the system can work. But that won't happen now. Since we don't know what happens when you die, we have no idea if you go to some great reward, punishment, or just into oblivion. The only surefire way he could have been punished for his crimes was here. Instead, he's dead. Instead of showing the world of what happens when you do the wrong things for the right reasons, he will instead become a symbol for every man, woman, and child who thinks the only way they can solve their problems is through violence. This is a very dangerous time Roman. Solutions that involve bloodshed may have been the way it was done in the past, but in these times of atomic weapons and gods walking the earth, the world must be taught new ways if we want to survive. Had Cauterize been arrested, charged, and convicted, that might have been one small step. Instead, he becomes fuel for the next kid who can't take being bullied any more and brings a shotgun to school, the next metahuman who thinks the only way to get rid of your problems is to smash them into dust, the next leader who thinks the only true way to solve his problems is to press the button. And most of all, my dear Mayor, it is one more crack in my walls, the walls of my comrades, the walls of my breed, who try so hard to hold onto higher ideals, as slippery and stupid and maddening as they are all the time, who have to fight their inherent weakness as well as the weakness of all their fellows and yet seem to keep being told over and over that the drawbacks between killing for war and killing for peace seem to become more NONEXISTANT BY THE BLOODY HOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Savior finally stopped for air, breathing heavily, even as he continued to hold Roman several inches off the ground, though he seemed to be lowering him now…

"And what makes it truly unacceptable is this nagging, grating, discordant feeling that even that's not the end. No. Maybe there's something more. Something that dearly wants to stay hidden. And maybe it's the fact that the child who thought being a man meant smashing all the other children's toys so everyone would play with him was just thinking the way he was because someone convinced him that was the only way to think! Or maybe, just maybe…it wasn't even that…maybe…the one who did the thinking…DID THE DEED AS WELL!"

And he ripped open Roman's shirt.

Some time later, the door opened and Savior stepped out, his righteous rage gone, his mood and posture as calm as a night beach.

Except Scalpel could tell it wasn't calm. It was a sense of failure. It was a sense of defeat.

"Well?" Savior asked Chief Turnquist.

"Kid…even letting you get away with that is pushing it. In all your yelling and your suspicion, you forgot that Roman has rights too. And considering all we found at the Garigen house…sorry kid, but we have to let him go. There's nothing to hold him on."

"But the room…the visits…Garigen himself…it can't be…he has to…"

"Savior…we don't have any proof. That he was working with Cauterize…or that he was Cauterize."

Savior stared.

"Kid, I've been doing this longer then you've been alive. And I don't even need that much experience to know why you did what you did. But it's over. You might not like that, but it's over Savior."

"Of course. They found O.J innocent too." Savior said, and he stepped past Chief Turnquist and walked down the hall. Turnquist looked at Scalpel, who shrugged and followed.

Savior had been so sure, been so certain that Occam's Razor was going to fail again, that when he ripped open Roman's shirt he was going to find, if only faintly, evidence of burns, of a master plan that had everyone hoodwinked.

But there had been no burn tissue, no scars, nothing but skin and a light coating of dark hair. And Savior had checked to make sure it wasn't makeup.

And when he'd seen that…Savior had almost lost himself. He had, in a moment of weakness, nearly committed one of the worst sins of being a detective: instead of changing your theory if it doesn't fit the suspect, you try to hammer on the suspect until he fits your theory. And he nearly had done so, as despite his many speeches to the contrary, and his deep beliefs in the law, or at least justice, Savior had almost jammed the Shimmer up Roman's nose and gone hunting for the data he was sure was there, data he needed to have…

Data that couldn't have been proven, couldn't have been used in court…data that might not have been there in the first place.

As mentioned, Savior's experience in investigation mostly came from Law & Order, and in that show it was never the most likely suspect, or the most likely suspect charged with the original reason he had been suspected of. There was always a man behind the curtain, someone or something else linked to the mess that had tried to hide their connection and failed, and with Roman's war room, his links to all the deceased, his documented feelings, all the loose ends when it came to Toby…

But…nothing had happened. No dramatic Perry Mason confession. No sudden Usual Suspects twist. There wouldn't be a false wooden leg revealed here.

Just the facts.

Ma'am.

As much as Savior hated them, that was what they appeared to be.

And so he left the police station, Scalpel having gone to fetch Terra and Beast Boy. He looked up at the sky. Cauterize's feint bombs had led to the chemical plants being shut down for a few days, and hence the cloud of chemicals hanging over Light City was a little thinner. There were reports there would be strong winds coming in that night: maybe, for the first time in a long time, Light City would finally see the lunar radiance that gave it its name.

Savior was so busy staring at the clouds and wondering how he could be so wrong that he almost didn't notice them until they were right on top of him.

"Savior!"

"Is it true Cauterize is dead?"

"Can you confirm the alien murdered him?"

"Is it true Cauterize was a police officer?"

"Can you confirm or deny reports you have been seen with the new Supergirl?"

Savior's head jerked down as the media began swarming up the stairs. The international media had finally shown up, not to mention the cowed local media were finally finding their spunk again now that the people that had been repeatedly threatened them to not make them look bad were gone. Savior snorted, and with a Shimmer line he was swinging away. He didn't even care to give a few snarling retorts. He was too tired. He just wanted to go back to the Tower, find a book of Raven's poems, and have some quiet reading time with her, and hope the next time they confronted evil, or madness, or human failing, it worked out in a better way.

His teammates nearly got eaten alive when they emerged, but fortunately Terra had a rock stashed that flew over as the three frantically hopped on it. It flew away, the reporters yelling their questions after it.

Roman Fernendez was feeling considerably better. True, the metahuman had manhandled him and had looked like he was going to perform an amateur lobotomy on him…but he hadn't. In the end he'd walked away and left Roman. A minute later a police officer had entered the room and apologized for the treatment, quite well actually, and had offered to take Roman to the locker room so he could shower. Roman had accepted, and on the way there was told that he had been cleared of all charges and was free to go after the shower, and was there anything else they could do for him? Roman recognized it as make-nice ass kissing after someone had let the barometer slide the other way and allowed the teen leader of the metahumans to act the way he did, but he accepted it.

After all, it was finished. Savior might not have liked the way it ended, but Roman Fernendez didn't feel the need to try and hold such high moral ground. And while the concept of nearly three hundred murders didn't exactly roll off his back, Roman had rationalized it away on the basis that what happened had happened and it couldn't be taken back.

And the fact that it had resulted in the deaths of Geoffrey Tercero and Stephen Pierce, which awarded him the mayor's seat and left the city open for his own personal vision for it…well, that helped a bit. True, the position was soaked in blood, and Roman was going to have to get some of it on him…but it would all be worth it. He knew it, and so would Light City.

So Roman had not made any threats of firings or lawsuits (he didn't much care either way). Instead he had just asked for a cell phone, which had been provided. Roman had called City Hall and asked one of his new aides to bring him fresh clothing from the closet they called an office he had been stuffed in when he was Deputy Mayor. Then he had showered, and had been in the process of shaving with an electric razor when the clothes had arrived. After several days of wearing the same smelly suit, having new clothes made him feel like a king.

And wasn't he now? With all that had happened, he was King of Light City.

For better or for worse.

But he planned for it to be better.

The media spotted him almost instantly as he left, and he would have been swarmed had it not been for several police officers. The media managed to calm down a bit when he said he would make a statement. Roman figured he would: the car he had called for hadn't yet arrived, and unlike Savior, he didn't mind throwing some chum to the sharks.

"A lot has happened to this city this past week. Many lives have been lost, including the life of the lunatic who began this terror. I regret that the vigilante known as Cauterize could not have been brought to justice, but he will never again threaten this city, or any other for this matter. And while an election is surely needed soon, for now I will accept the office as Mayor and try my best to repair what he has done. If tragedies must occur, let them bring about change, and I plan to make some changes. That's all for now, but I hope to show you all more soon. I believe you'll find it very exciting." Roman said, as the limousine pulled around the corner. He gestured for the police officers to help him get through the crowd, and for some, that said it all: it was not a haughty, command the lessers to do thy bidding gesture, but a "I could use some help here, please?" one, as the police scattered the media so Roman Fernendez could get to his car. He didn't wait for anyone to open the door: he did it himself.

He realized immediately that he wasn't alone in the back.

"Where to, Mr. Fernendez?" The chauffeur asked through the intercom.

"Just drive around a bit." Roman replied, looking at the person who was in the car with him.

He really wasn't surprised to see him.

Terra has expected a louder curse to come from her made point, but she was wrong. All Savior did was stare at her for a few seconds, and then he looked up at the ceiling and asked "Why?"

Said point had come when the group had arrived back at their hotel, which was still abandoned (and strangely not vandalized, maybe people were afraid of catching meta-germs or something) and found that there was still a fair amount of paper, charts, and general data from their Cauterize investigation that hadn't been brought or shipped over to the now smoldering ruin that had once been Stephen Pierce's house. When Beast Boy had asked what they should do with it, Savior had replied "Leave it. Gar, get the car."

Slight pause.

Terra's point: "Um, Noel, the car got blown up in our first fight with Cauterize, remember?"

Mumbling that someone hated him, Savior slipped out his T-Communicator and began keying it up.

"You people are my witnesses. There was no way for us to save that car." He said.

"Right, just like you couldn't stop Power Girl from throwing it at Doomsday." Beast Boy said sarcastically. "That really made all the difference, truth or not."

Savior gave Beast Boy a sour look, and then turned his face back to the communicator as he waited for an answer.

And waited.

And after forty seconds, frowned as the communicator suddenly cut out.

"What happened?" Terra asked.

"Not sure…" Savior replied, as he canceled the hail and re-tried. Same result.

"Something wrong?" Scalpel asked.

"Maybe…I think Robin's communicator may be turned off…" Savior said, as he canceled and tried Raven's.

When twenty seconds had passed without any answer, the other three Titans had taken out their devices as well, looking at Savior. He gave them the command with a nod, and all three of them attempted to raise various Titan members themselves.

And they all got nothing.

By now, everyone but Savior was looking worried. The white-haired teen was busy keying in a complex code on his communicator, hoping he remembered all the numbers.

"Oh god…you don't think…" Terra began.

"I think all their communicators are turned off…now that could mean the worst…but it could also just mean they went out on a mission…and hopefully I'll verify that soon…" Savior said as he finished keying in his combination. His T-Communicator beeped twice, and Savior punched in some more digits. Another quick beep, and again he entered something in.

"Scanners up…" His device suddenly said.

"Hold on…" Savior whispered as he raised a hand to indicate quiet. The other three were deathly so.

"Most recent threat detected…Saturday…at 5:35 PM…Class…2." Savior's communicator intoned. Savior looked relieved, and snapped his device shut.

"They're out on a mission. We'll have to wait until they get back."

"Dude, what was that?"

"I logged into our computer and asked for the latest data of any attacks. Apparently something happened in Jump City twenty minutes ago, and they're dealing with it. Don't be too worried, it was just a Class 2."

"Great. What's a Class 2?" Beast Boy asked. Savior rolled his eyes.

"The computer has Class levels for threats. Class 1 is say some robbers who are giving the police trouble, all the way up to Class 5 which is Godsend or Torment showing up for a rematch. Class 2 is some danger but not much. Mumbo, most likely. Maybe Gizmo on his own." Savior said, and then sighed. "Whatever it may be, Robin or Cyborg apparently turned all the communicators off. They do that at times. We'll have to try later…but until then we're stuck here. Unless you want to make a few cab drivers rich."

"No. They stare." Scalpel said.

"Right, and I doubt Terra and Beast Boy want to fly us all the way back…right?" Savior sad, looking at the new couple to make sure his assessment was accurate. They nodded. "So until then, kill some time. I'll try again in half an hour."

Easier said then done.

"Ok…" Savior said ten minutes later. "No books, no magazines, all the TV shows is porno…well, I was going to assume that there was nothing we need in what's left of this junk, but we might as well be sure!" Savior said with false enthusiasm. The others groaned, but they all agreed that looking through the dregs of their files was better then sitting around and doing nothing (and before you suggest that Gar and Tara could do plenty, Gar wanted something nice for Tara, and unless she showed considerable enthusiasm, and she wasn't, he wasn't going to try and talk her into their first time being in a second rate hotel room).

"Fine, I'll take those." Terra said, indicating a desk covered with various files.

"What are those?" Scalpel asked, pointing to a musty pile of paper.

"That's a whole bunch of old newspapers from every local rag Light City has. I'll take the top half." Savior said, as the Shimmer slipped into the mass and pulled the top half over to another desk. Scalpel just shrugged and walked over, sitting on the floor and picking up the top one.

"'Nixon Confident of Great Things During Second Term'." Scalpel read out loud. "….How OLD are these?"

"Some then all of us." Savior muttered, as he flipped through his own paper, vaguely scanning the first several pages before he tossed it aside and picked up another one.

"At least there's something for you to READ." Terra said, as she indicated her current file, which was apparently some kind of business thing from Shawkcorktenningwillis Inc. "Ugh. Is this even in English?"

A Shimmer strand snatched it away from Terra and brought it over to Savior's face. His eyes darted back and forth a few times.

"Yes." Savior said, and gave it back to Terra before picking out another newspaper and looking through it. Terra grumbled and made a game effort to read it, but her brain overloaded after twenty seconds and she tossed it aside.

Beast Boy was chuckling, and Terra turned her head towards him.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I've got this list of all the people who've been in the LCPD for more then a year, goes back nearly forty years…some of them have really funny names. Look…this guy's name is Gerald A. Gorilla, but there's been a printing error, so his name reads Middle Initial, Last Name, First Name. A Gorilla! HA!"

"How droll." Savior muttered over at his desk. "Argh, what's the point of this…" he muttered to himself as he tossed the latest paper aside and selected the next one.

"How about this guy…Merrick Marsmallo! Marshmallow!" Beast Boy said, and giggled like a schoolgirl, and Terra couldn't help but get drawn in to his simple good humor.

"Great. Can't wait till they get to I.P Freely and Heywood Yubloeme." Savior muttered again, tossing the latest paper aside and grabbing the next one, wishing there was some kind of chronological order to the things, they were jumping back and forth all over the calendar.

"And some are just weird…Merry Kissane! Bet she got hit on a lot…if she's a she. I HOPE she's a she."

"Jacinto Neithercut…who names their kid that?" Terra asked.

"Hey, that's better then…Lynwood Chauffe." Beast Boy said, picking a random name.

"Oh yeah? I see your Lynwood and raise you Leif Doeil!" Terra replied, grabbing the file and flipping it open to a random section.

"I see your Doiel and raise you Chaya Blizard!" Beast Boy said, grabbing it back and doing the same.

"I see your Chaya and raise Jae Aristizibal!"

"Oh yeah?" Beast Boy said as he grabbed it back. "I see your Jae and raise you…"

And then he stopped as his eyes fell on a name.

"Well?" Terra asked, not noticing Beast Boy's look.

"This one?" Beast Boy said, pointing.

"What?" Terra said, following Beast Boy's pointing finger. "That's not that strange…"

And then Terra trailed off as what was on the page sank in.

"……What?" Terra asked.

"I know…you think it's…"

"……….I think there was some files in there that listed relatives and next of kin and such when it came to contacting someone in the event of an emergency." Terra said, reaching up and clawing at the desk, pulling several files down. It took two minutes to find the right file but only forty seconds to find what they needed in it. The two stared at it.

"………Dude." Beast Boy said.

"We better bring this up…hey, Noel!" Terra called.

Savior didn't answer.

"Hey, Savior! Leader Boy! Hello! We have something here!" Terra yelled, looking over at the teenager, who was still sitting at his chair, staring down at a paper. "Look, I know you can hear me!"

"You found something?" Scalpel asked, looking up from his paper.

"I don't know. I want to know what Semi-Leader here thinks of it. Hey Noel!" Beast Boy yelled, getting up while holding the files. "There's something weird here! Noel! NOEL! What, has he gone deaf?" Beast Boy said, as he headed over to Savior.

"Earth to Savior! Come In! We have life here but not as we know it Jim!" Terra said as she followed Beast Boy. "Hey! HEY!"

Beast Boy was just about ready to turn into a baby elephant and give Savior a nose bellow right into his ear when Savior turned towards them slightly.

"…..Huh?" He said to the two.

"Have you gone deaf? We said…" Beast Boy said as he drew up next to Savior.

And saw the paper Savior had been staring at, indeed, the paper with the front page that Savior had been staring at for the past minute, as he suffered the same punch in the gut that Terra and Beast Boy had felt when they had seen the name on the sheet, only ten times so, as Savior's brain flooded with information and possibilities he had never even pondered.

"Savior, Beast Boy has files…" Terra said, pointing to said files…and as Savior started to look at them, she noticed he seemed like he was in a daze…and then she noticed that Beast Boy had acquired the same look. "Oh what the hell, is this catching? Are those Big Brains from that Futurama episode real and…"

Beast Boy pointed at the paper.

It didn't take Terra long to make the same connection that had caused the dazed looks on the two males.

"What's going on?" Scalpel asked, still in the dark. Beast Boy turned to Scalpel and was about to explain…except Savior beat him to it as he grabbed the files from Beast Boy's hands and began looking back and forth between them and the newspaper.

"My god…." Savior said. "…..Does anyone mind if I start to ramble?"

"About what?" Scalpel asked. Savior didn't answer, he just stood up and walked over to the now empty bulletin board and pinned the three documents on it.

And he started to talk.

It didn't take Scalpel to join the other three, as they listened and realized and figured out their own things, grabbing what they could from what was left of the documents as the picture finally became clear, and when it was revealed they didn't have the documents, they wrote it down from what they had seen, heard, and remembered.

Twenty-five minutes later the picture was complete, all the pieces fit in.

And when that happened, the full reality sank into the Titans.

"My lord…all that…and we never…even thought…" Terra said, as she sat down on the bed.

"But…if this is true…then…" Scalpel began.

"I thought there was something amiss." Savior said. "But even I didn't think it was like this…and if this is true…then this was far…we can't win."

The three looked at their leader. It wasn't often they saw Savior with the expression that there was no hope in hell that they could fix the problem…which made it all the more shocking.

"We can't even begin to try." Savior said, and he meant it.

"I expected I hadn't seen the last of you." Roman Fernendez said.

"We need to talk." Said the figure in the shadows.

"About what?"

"I'm sure you know." Said the figure. "There are still, despite the past week, a few problems that need to be solved. I wondered if you would be up to it…but I didn't want to ask in public. So I got into your car around the corner. A nice one."

"Tercero was a sucker for excess." Roman said. "I suppose I could go with something more practical…then again, everyone should have some luxury. Considering what lies ahead, maybe it would be better to keep it."

"Yes…I'm very familiar with your…ideas."

"You?"

"Please Roman…I didn't do what I did without some knowledge of the players."

"Of course…and you're worried things won't turn out the way you planned."

"Yes."

"Well…you're not the only one with knowledge of what's going on in all the nooks and crannies." Roman said, as he popped open the small fridge in the limo's door. He withdrew a bottle and two glasses. "You needn't have come in person…but the fact that you did shows that you are concerned for this city…if you haven't already shown it. So, I may as well reward your perseverance and courage with a little pomp and circumstance."

Roman poured two glasses and offered one, which was taken.

"Well then…I'm not sure of the official way to do this…but I'll look it up tomorrow and do it then….but for now…I officially promote you to the Chief of the Police of the LCPD. Congratulations, Mr. Turnquist."

"Thank you, your honor." Garry Turnquist said, as he leaned and clinked glasses with Roman.

"Your honor….hmmmm. I could get used to this." Roman said, and sipped from his glass.

As the limousine drove through a quiet rural area, as the two in the back worked on some of the details of helping their city come back from the brink, as Roman spoke excitedly of the possibilities that came with the improvements of the chemical plants…as the car drove past a small house, the two never realizing what they had passed, as we leave them and pan within…

"Why does there have to be so much history?" Kei Michiko complained, looking at the several textbooks on the coffee table in front of her. "I don't even know where to start."

"The test isn't until next week Kei. You don't have to start panicking yet. It's not like we're cramming the night before. That doesn't really work anyway…you can't force feed a brain large amounts of information and hope it will all stick…"

"I don't think slowly feeding my brain information over the period of time we have will stick! There's just so much to learn!"

"It's ok Kei. That's why you're here. I'll help."

"How?"

"I'm already very familiar with the material. Maybe hearing it through me will help."

"You sure?"

"Quite."

"Man…you do all you do, yet you never seem to mess up anywhere. How do you remember all that stuff, Elijah?"

"Oh…" Elijah Versaw said, as he reached up and slowly slipped off his glasses. "It's a gift."

The teenager neatly folded the glasses in front of him and laid them on the table. Kei followed the motion.

"Elijah…I though you were nearly blind without your glasses."

"Rumors of my hindrance have been greatly exaggerated Kei…to paraphrase a famous man. Besides, those are just clear glass. I wear contacts now."

"Contacts…then why wear the glasses?" Kei said, confused.

"Pretty much the same reason you do Kei. For a disguise. I wore them to keep up appearances…just like you wear yours to cover up your appearance. After all, I've seen the way the boys in school look at you…but they're just fools high on hormones…only I…" Elijah said, as his hand suddenly darted forward and started removing her glasses. "Truly appreciate what lies underneath."

Kei looked a bit freaked, as she drew away, her hands jerking up and pulling her glasses back close to her face.

"Uh…Elijah…I don't know what's happening…but we really need to study…I don't have your gifts…"

"Hmmmm. True." Elijah mused, as he drew back. Kei felt relieved. She liked Elijah…but the way he had been acting just then was rather creepy…and what was with the false glasses?

"Actually…not to be narcissistic…but I actually have more gifts then you realize Kei…" Elijah said.

She never saw him move. One moment he was a comfortable distance away from her, the next he was right up against her…and that was really all Kei Michiko realized before Elijah's primary and middle finger pressed lightly on the back of her skull, at a certain point a little higher and to the right of the center of the base, fingers that, if you looked very closely, seemed to be just a tad bit out of focus…

Kei's shock faded quickly. Everything was fading, actually, as shadows seemed to swoop into all she saw. They didn't consume everything though, but rather seemed to dance on it…distorting her view, warping her perceptions…

She could hear Elijah talking, but it sounded like he was very very far away…and she couldn't quite make out every word…

"Interesting thing about power." Elijah said, as he continued to vibrate his fingers at a highly developed level, just enough to cause the proper result without accidentally drilling a hole through Kei's skull. "When most people acquire power…it just stops there. They don't care about the details, they don't care about the…possibilities. To them, the power is all, all and nothing more. One way, or another, they let it eat them alive…that's why so many so called "supervillians" wind up in jail time and again. All they know is the power. They don't ever bother to LEARN it. Because that's the key to true success Kei. Not just having power…but knowing every facet, every notion, every tiny nook and cranny of what it can do. They say patience is a virtue. It's more then that. It's a gateway to everything…including happiness."

"….Hmmmmmmm…mmmm…" Kei said.

"Take super speed. Most people would be content to run across the States within a few seconds. But speed can do so much more Kei, if you take the time to learn it. Toby just tried to apply it to his body…I suppose it worked, to a degree…but when you look at all the things you can apply it too…you'd be amazed what you can find, Kei."

"Wh-a…"

"There's a lot about the human brain we don't know about Kei. We don't know how perception and thought can truly relate to reality…and we don't know how much of it can be turned to the will of others. Hypnotism, brainwashing, all that…they're something, I suppose…but that can take a while…and be highly…noticeable. Sometimes you need to think outside the box…or maybe…just a new way to unwrap it. The brain has a small amount of electricity Kei. It's vital to the brain's function. So imagine my surprise when I discovered, during my preparations…a unique trick. I suppose it's understandable why no one ever thought of it before, it's really a delicate procedure…not enough and there's no effect…too much and you risk severe damage if not death…and the middle ground is too small for most instruments to balance in. Too risky. But when you're like me…you can do it…just right…and produce the exact vibration that, if instigated at certain parts of the skull, disrupts the natural bioelectricity of the cerebral cortex…just a tad. It's a bit like jiggling the cord to try and get a clearer picture for the TV, but in this case, the effect usually demonstrated is a person becoming dazed and confused…but that's just side effects to the main use: it can make people…highly suggestible. Highly."

"Elijah…"

"But…that's just me. As you're going to forget everything I just told you about the technique and everything about me doing this. It's gone. A blank. It never was. It never will be. Right now. Understand?"

"Yes…"

"What did I just tell you?"

"…..Nothing…"

"Good." Elijah said, a slightly pleased look coming onto his features. "Now…above all else Kei, you need to know…I will never hurt you. In any way. I am no threat to you at all…so relax…this won't hurt in the slightest. And that's no delusion, it's the truth. Now why don't you take off your glasses?"

"Ok…" Kei said, as her hand slowly lifted up and removed her glasses, revealing clear almond eyes. She absently mindedly set them on the table.

"Why don't you let your hair down as well?"

"Ok…" Kei answered, as she reached behind her and fiddled with her tight braids. It took a little bit, but eventually they unraveled, revealing long black hair that was clearly well taken care of. Without the glasses and braid, Kei's true beauty was revealed, and she was a lovely girl, maybe even more so then Elijah had expected.

But he was, as mentioned, patient. There was more to do.

"You know Kei…I know you. I know you hate those jocks and pieces of shit who hit on you, day in and day out…but I'm…not exactly the best with women Kei. And on top of that…relationships these days are so messy. So I kept how I felt to myself…for a long time. But now…everything is settled Kei. I've fixed some of the problems that would keep us apart…and with this, I'll fix the rest. Now forget what I just said, and listen very carefully to me now. Ok?"

"…Yes…"

"Are you listening?"

"…I'm listening…"

"You will awaken thinking you dozed off a bit with boredom. You and I will continue to study. After a bit…you will begin to realize something. For a while, you've been attracted to me, quite deeply. After all, I'm kind, helpful, sweet, and I don't act like a dog overflowing with hormones every time I speak to you. As more time passes, you will begin to realize that…you have to see if you can find a spark. So, after some time tonight…you will kiss me…and find in the kiss not a spark but an inferno, and everything you feel will grow deeper and flow through you as you realize I've always liked you too. Do you understand, Kei?"

"Yes…"

"My mom's asleep. She's taken a sedative. The more you kiss me, the more passionate…and aroused…you will grow. You will want to go to bed with me. Are you a virgin, Kei?"

"…No…"

"Hmmmm, probably for the best. I admittingly have little experience…but it won't matter. What I will do to you…when I'm not quite getting it right, you'll still feel wonderful, and when I do get it right…it will thrill you unlike anything you've ever felt before. You'll wonder how you ever survived without it. It will be like touching heaven. Understand?"

"…Yes…"

"Eventually though…such intense feelings will fade. But they will not go out. They will be like embers, the hot coals of a fire after it has died down. We will begin a relationship. You will not be slavishly devoted to me, you will not be unable to live without me, and you will not think that I am the only reason for your existence and that you cannot live without me. Your life will continue much like it has before. But…you will not accept nor believe any criticism given to you for your choice…and when we are together…alone…the embers will reignite into flame. Not always as high, or as intense…but they will always be there. I will not make you whole, or complete…but I will make you happy…maybe, you think, for the rest of your life. Understand?"

"Yes…"

"Ok Kei…and Kei…if some part of you is still in there and thinking this is wrong…maybe. But don't be thinking it's some kind of violation, or rape. Rape is for lesser men, animals. I'm just…getting rid of all the mess that can get in the way of happiness in this world…so relax…I can fine tune this…and if I feel it's not going to work out…I'll fix it so we can go our separate ways and find happiness with others. I'm not a monster Kei. I just want to love and appreciate you…and I just want to make sure you realize how great that is…now forget everything I just said in the last minute."

"Ok…" Kei said in a breathy whisper.

"All right Kei…now you're going to wake up…you will remember nothing of this…but deep down you will feel the beginnings of what I told you…and you will know that it is the right thing. That it will bring you happiness. Understand?"

"Yes…"

"….One last thing. One brief kiss Kei. Just so I know. Close your eyes." Elijah said. There was no gleaming triumph in his eyes, no barely controlled furious hormones or sadistic joy in the fact that he had just brainwashed a girl into falling in love with him. Rather…there was just a slight look of satisfaction, and the contented look of a man who has love and knew it, as he slowly leaned in…

CLICK.

"DON'T. MOVE."

The sudden male voice ripped through Elijah's poise and contentment like razors, as his own eyes jerked open at the sudden sound.

"Don't even breathe, you fucking murdering pervert."

Elijah blinked as he realized what had happened. For half a second, he was aggravated, greatly so, but he quickly got over it.

"Kei…" he whispered. "New plan. You will forget absolutely everything I said from the moment this started and never remember anything that happened. Now…sleep."

"Ok…" Kei said, and immediately she was asleep, her body slowly sliding away from Elijah. Elijah inhaled through his nose, the noise indicating annoyance, as he turned to look at the man who was standing across from the couch and aiming the gun at him.

"Detective Jonathon Chesbro." Elijah said.

It had been the eyes.

In them, Chesbro had finally found his answer, of both the key to the whole mess and why he had been constantly blacking out. He wasn't sick, suffering from narcolepsy or some similar mental state, nor was he overtired or stressed…nor was he going to sleep and waking up as someone else, as he had secretly feared in a deep deep part of his being, a part so deep he was barely aware of it at all and probably never would be fully aware of if he lived to be a hundred.

He was trying…to remember.

His blackouts hadn't been the sign of something bad, his brain turning against him, it had been an attempt to provide aid, as his mind tried to get him to recall something he had seen once, something buried deep within his subconscious, his mind flitting with images that he couldn't hold onto when he awoke…until now. Until the last one, when he had seen the photo of Toby Garigen's remains coming out of the fax machine…and realizing the eyes didn't match.

Toby Garigen had brown eyes…and the eyes he had seen briefly when he had run into Cauterize in the bathroom weren't brown. They were blue, a sharp clear blue…a pair of eyes that Chesbro had seen once before…

At a picnic an eternity ago, before the bad times really started, on a day when the police department could forget the bad parts of its duties and merely reveal in its camaraderie, and he, a young rookie, walking around, feeling quietly thrilled that he was among them, as his uncle and Turnquist introduced him to several of the more prominent officers…officers he could barely remember meeting…

But there was one thing he recalled…walking past one part of the party, being startled just a bit as the section roared laughter, being entertained by one of theirs, a huge man with a loud voice slightly slurred by alcohol…and the people around him…including a frail women who looked like she was wearing just a little too much makeup and looked torn between the choices of staying there or running away like a frightened deer, and a young boy, no more then ten, who briefly looked at him in the way people look at things whose motion as caught their eyes…and see one of the most intense, cold set of eyes he had ever seen in his life, eyes he had briefly locked with, eyes that betrayed nothing…and yet seemed to be looking at him with faint pleading, and under that, anger…

The same eyes he had seen peering out of Cauterize's facemask.

The eyes he could finally see clearly as he jerked awake, remembering who had them…and why the child was there at the picnic…and with that finally remembered it all fell into place for Chesbro, as he had leapt out of his chair, run out to his car, and put the pedal to the metal, stopping only to check a phone book in a public telephone booth, arriving at his destination…

Why he didn't call for backup, he didn't know. Maybe part of him didn't want to be proven wrong. Maybe he was starting to accept he was no longer a cop but a civilian and he had no backup to call. Or maybe it was a personal thing, as Chesbro wanted to see, face to face, the real man behind the mask…the man who was still little more then a boy, as Chesbro had found an unlocked window near the back and slowly, quietly, made his way in, creeping towards the sounds of voices…and seeing most of what had happened on the couch. When the boy turned his full attention to the girl he had been…what, brainwashing? Altering? Suggesting? Well, whatever it was, Chesbro had taken the chance to slip around front and train his gun on him. And now he was looking at him…looking at his eyes…the same eyes behind Cauterize's mask.

He knew. Even before Elijah spoke.

"Detective." Elijah repeatedly, leaning back a bit, as if he was having a cordial discussion about sports or a TV show. "I'd ask why you're here…except you probably already know."

"I said don't move." Chesbro said, all business, not a whit of fear in his voice. For good reason.

Elijah didn't know it though, as he smirked, ever so slightly, a true ghost of a smile.

"Detective Chesbro…if you are here, then you know who I am, and if you know who I am…then surely you know that you're already beaten." Elijah said. The message was clear: with my speed I could have the gun out of your hand before your brain could even form the command to pull the trigger.

Chesbro didn't flinch.

"Oh, I know who you are Cauterize…so I'll just say, since you can so easily do what you claim…then go ahead and do it."

Silence.

The two stared at each other.

Chesbro betrayed no emotion.

Elijah failed to, as after several seconds of silence a brief, ever so brief flicker of emotion went over his face…but Chesbro recognized it all the same. Frustration. Anger. A tiny bit of fear. The expression of a man who realizes that his bluff has been called. That expression gave Chesbro more satisfaction then he'd had in the past five years of his career…though he didn't show it.

"What's wrong?" Chesbro asked. He was too mature to adopt a mocking tone, but his dry, by-the-numbers rhetorical question was somehow even more infuriating. "Tired? I'll gather you are. Running around the city, killing people, setting others up…must be exhausting. The teenagers spoke of that…they said it explained why you couldn't move out of the way of the truck. You were too tired. But apparently not enough…or at least at the time. I can only imagine how worn out you are NOW…considering at that point you had to run away, grab Toby Garigen, dress him up in your costume, drag him back to the spot, and run away to leave him to a horrible death, all so quickly no one even realized it. Indeed…I'll gather that it took everything you had left. I bet that if I gave you a chance to run you wouldn't be able to muster a light jog…though it seems you have your priorities straight enough to muster up some power so you can condition a girl into wanting to screw you."

"DON'T YOU JUDGE ME." Elijah suddenly hissed, as he suddenly stood up. Chesbro cocked the hammer back, but Elijah didn't move towards him. Instead, he just pointed at him. A more trigger happy cop would have blown Elijah's head off for that sudden angry motion, but Chesbro had graduated second in his class when it came to shooting, and his fine control showed it.

"DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME! YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, HAVE NO RIGHT, AFTER WHAT YOU DID!" Elijah yelled, though it was an odd yell as it was done through clenched teeth, which lessened the volume but brought his anger across even more.

"I really don't know what you're talking about." Chesbro said. But that…was a slight lie. Chesbro had an inkling…but not much of one. But he figured that Elijah would fill in the details.

"Oh, I think you do detective. With your brain and what you've gathered…hazard a guess."

"Your father."

"STEPfather." Elijah hissed. "Don't even HINT that I was related to that bastard via genetics…hell, don't say that of my other father. Neither deserve it."

"I was new. I barely knew your stepfather. I'd barely been in the department six months when he vanished…I heard of the investigation, how detailed it was, and how it turned up nothing…it baffled a lot of my fellows. You made him vanish, didn't you?"

"And you know why." Elijah said.

Chesbro didn't answer. He didn't know what kind of answer to give…unless it was the one fueled by the few rumors he had heard in the early days…rumors that were rapidly being revealed as truth.

"I never met your stepfather."

"You know anyway. You all do. Because you're a cop. One Brotherhood behind the Shield…what a joke." Elijah snorted. "You may blame me for this past week, but the truth is, you are as much to blame as I am. Even more so."

"I'm not a murderer."

"No. You're WORSE. You're a traitor. You betrayed your own duty for the sake of your organization. You failed in your job because you couldn't admit the truth behind one of your fellows. That's the thing about cops Detective. They rightfully have an us-against-the-world mindset. They have to battle crime, the bleeding hearts who think all criminals will be nice if we just give them hugs, the shysters and liars who will do anything to win, a hostile public that either hates them or fears them or fears to help them, and a vicious pack of sharks known as the media who put microscopes on everything so they can present you as either bumbling fools or lying, power mad racists. With all that, it's no wonder they draw ranks so closely, protect their own kind so fiercely, make themselves a separate family…I can understand that. But it's no excuse for what you do: you're so involved in protecting your barrel you either don't see the rotten apples in it…or refuse to see them. You look at a piece of shit dressed up as a human being that you should be tossing in jail right next to the scum you hunt…and instead you rationalize, ignore, forget what your own eyes see, what your own heart KNOWS is true…because he's one of you. YOU. FUCKING. BASTARDS." Elijah spat.

Chesbro said nothing. Elijah went on.

"You know…we speak of sins of the fathers…something you should know all too well. Oh, I know detective. I do my research too. I've done a lot of it these past years. I know what your father did, and how it affected you. No matter how you try, that will define your life Detective."

"That doesn't excuse what you did." Chesbro said quietly.

"Oh really? Why not?"

"We all have choices. You chose this path. Now you have to face the consequences…"

"DON'T. EVEN. START." Elijah snapped. "You dare speak of morals. Let me tell you what morals are these days Detective. They're an excuse, a crutch for people to give in to their own weaknesses. No one wants to do what has to be done, but God forbid you call them on it. After all, they MEAN well." Elijah said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know of my stepfather, but you don't know of my father. Let me tell you about him. After all, why shouldn't I? What a great man he was, the perfect example of the happy Light City family, the great tourist attraction that was thriving and content! A man who had a young wife, a baby son, and dreams, great dreams. Dreams he would surely achieve! He would work hard, and sacrifice, and eventually he would be able to give his family everything they wanted, and his family was happy to let him, because it was Light City, happy and prosperous…it was a nice town."

Elijah paused, as if reliving faint memories of his early years, memories most of us have long forgotten…unless…

"But my father was one more thing detective. He was a man who could look to the future, to the point of precognition. And when the chemical plants went up, and the clouds started to gather, and people began to note tourism was starting to slack, but they were sure it would rebound soon…my dad saw what was happening. He saw that the good times were ending. He saw that everything that made Light City great was starting to fade. Maybe he even saw that the city was, after so long at such a great high, about to balance it out by hitting a terrible low. And he saw his dreams disappearing. Dreams he'd held all his life. And he began to realize that a lifetime of hard work would get him one thing now: nowhere at all. All he would have left was his family…the family he claimed to love. It would be them…or his dreams. He chose his dreams and left us cold. We haven't seen him since. I don't know what happened to him, nor do I care. He threw us away so he could get what HE wanted. Maybe he moralized it by saying he would come back for us when he found his dreams. But apparently that path just kept leading away from us…even though he probably kept telling himself it didn't. Those are morals, Detective. A way of saying "No, I'm not being totally selfish and weak." I have a REASON!"

Elijah snorted again.

"Fucker. Leaving us for his dreams was bad enough…but leaving knowing what my mother was like…that was unpardonable. You see, my mother has always been a very fragile woman Detective. I've tried to find out why, but she won't tell me and besides from her own tightly held memories there are no other leads to what may have happened to her. But whatever it was, I doubt it was good. My mother…she can't live by herself Detective. She needs her own crutch, someone to hold her up. Whatever happened in her youth, it's made her totally dependent on whomever she was with for her to live. She had no skills or no abilities she could tap to stand on her own. She had to be WITH someone. So when my dad up and left…she panicked Detective. She was suddenly alone, newly divorced, in a city on the decline with a young son. So she did the only thing she knew how to do, Detective: she went looking for another man. She had to. Didn't matter who they were, as long as they could support her. And she found someone, all right. She found my stepfather…and she also apparently found out there were past lives and she had done something horrible in it for what it got her."

"William Versaw." Chesbro said.

"Oh, no one called him William Detective! He was Battlin' Bill, the Suspect Breaker! He never saw a suspect whose head he couldn't crack until he got what he wanted. He never saw some fifteen year old punk or dead eyed junkie he couldn't put the fear of god into! In the old days his kind of tactics would never be accepted…but the city was starting to fall apart, and crime was on the rise, and the LCPD was stuck between the Golden Age and the Stephen Pierce Era, so they were trying to make sure they could stem the rising tide before it drowned them, before Stephen Pierce showed up and bought the department, rendering the whole point moot. But those days…everyone liked Battlin' Bill! He was a great cop, a man who would watch your back, a man who wouldn't back down when it came to taking the scum off the streets, a guy who was great to have a drink with. And I guy I think everyone knew the truth about…and ignored it because to them he was a good cop, and that was all that was required. If you were a good cop on the job, who cared if you were a monster at home? After all, you were there during his last few months Detective. Surely you heard some rumors. Did you heard the one about how Battlin' Bill was a mispronunciation, and what his real nickname was?"

Chesbro was silent.

"Come on Detective. Humor me."

"………I don't really recall…but it might have been…Batterin' Bill."

"Oh, it was. In rumor and in fact. You haven't know helplessness Detective, until you're six years old and watching your "daddy" beat the shit out of your mother because he thought his mashed potatoes were too cold. You haven't felt true pain until you've heard your mother screaming while she's being beaten with a belt and raped by her own husband. And you haven't felt like you were living in hell when everyone that people told you would help, your neighbors, your teachers, the police, turned their back on the problem or ignored it because they couldn't deal with it. And when your innocence dies, and you look into your mother's eyes, and you see GUILT because she thinks that the whole thing is HER fault…then you'll know rage Detective. And when you try and help your mom and get beaten as well, and everyone ignores that…then you'll find what I found Detective." Elijah said, and gestured to himself.

"How did you find it?" Chesbro asked, meaning 'Where did you get your power?'

"I injected myself with mongoose blood." Elijah replied sarcastically. "It doesn't matter where I found the power Detective. What matters is that I used it to do what had to be done."

"What did you do to William?"

"I left him on an island in the Indian Ocean. Truly in the middle of nowhere. The island…had just enough on it to support life…for a short time. I really hope he suffered a lot before he died. But even if he suffered for a hundred lifetimes it wouldn't make up for what he put my mother through…what YOU put my mother through."

"I didn't…"

"Yes. You did. Because you're a cop. As far as I'm concerned, that makes you ALL guilty. Because you surely knew. Not all cops are geniuses, far from it, but they should know enough about how criminals act to know when one of their own is acting even worse. Are you going to tell me that you didn't see it? The way he brutalized people in the interrogation room, the just above unnecessary force he would use when subduing someone, the way he danced between required violence and outright brutality? You should have known Detective. ALL of you. You should have seen that what made him such a good cop…it wasn't enough to keep him in check. You should have KNOWN he wanted more. And you should have known, more then ever, when you saw my mother, wearing makeup and long sleeved shirts and sunglasses, where he was getting it. You should have KNOWN. Because Battlin' Bill, he didn't beat my mom and myself because he was a drunk, or because he was insecure about his masculinity, or because he had anger issues. He beat my mom because he was MEAN, and he LIKED doing it. You should have seen it. You should have seen how he was betraying you and your fellows with his actions. But you DIDN'T. BECAUSE HE WAS A COP. Because he was ONE of YOU. So you ignored it, looked the other way, covered for him, because he wore a badge. You let the cancer fester as long as it devoured cells you could put out of sight and out of mind. Because the alternative was too much. Because punishing him would betray the last bastion you have against the world: each other…when in the end Battlin' Bill wasn't a cop. He was a monster. And you excused him. You did nothing. You would have moralized until my mother and I were dead. That's when I learned that you need to do things yourself…and when I found the power, I did what you couldn't, WOULDN'T do. Because he was A COP." Elijah said, saying the term like it was the dirtiest words, with more vehemence then any criminal could normally muster. "You should feel damn lucky I stopped at giving your department a few humiliations. A lesser man would have killed them all."

"After what you did, be grateful this is it." Chesbro said, echoing what Elijah had said to Turnquist a few days ago. Elijah smirked.

"Indeed, Detective. The funny thing is…I think that line made him suspect you as being me. I wonder if that also played a factor in your firing…which reminds me, since you are no longer a police officer, you really can't be doing this."

"Consider it a citizen's arrest." Chesbro replied. Elijah smirked again.

"Oh yeah, that's a great term. Too bad I didn't know it, otherwise maybe I could have dealt with my stepfather myself without killing." Elijah said, his tone apparent in the fact that he wouldn't be satisfied with the fate of his stepfather if he found out that he was Satan's personal plaything in Hell. "As it turned out, I had to use other means…but when he was gone, I figured that was it. Battlin' Bill was history, my mother had blacked out the entire incident as it came on the heels of another beating, and none of you had a clue. I figured now would be the best time to pack up and get out of town…until I realized old Bill hadn't just tortured my mother. He'd scarred her, irrevocably. He'd always told her if she tried to speak of her plight or leave he'd kill her, and even though he was gone she couldn't get that…and everything in her life…out of her system. She couldn't leave the city. As much as life scared her…change scared her even more…scared her to the point that she couldn't even do it for me. It's funny. She overcame her fear of self-support and got a small secretary's job to try and raise me…because she had the much larger fear that she could never leave this city. Ever. Do you know what it's like, Detective, to have a brain that understands your mother can't find peace and happiness because of what others did to her, yet she believes, despite everything said and to the contrary, that she deserves what happened to her? I'll tell you Detective…when your mother claims the sins of others are hers…you start to have very bad thoughts about those others. And when you look at the others and see that you can't even have a contented life where you are because they're ruining and taking everything for themselves…well…you know something has to be done."

"Not what you did." Chesbro said.

"Still hanging onto your own rationalizing morality I see." Elijah said, as he finally sat down again. "Believe me Chesbro, this wasn't a knee-jerk decision. I knew that the problem was already deeply rooted when I found the power. And even as I tried to sketch up a plan…the roots sank in even more. It was a dark time in my life Detective, even as I trained myself in my power, learned how to use it, gathered the materials I would need…I saw the rot creeping in, faster and more then I ever dreamed of, and I wondered, despite all my preparations, how could I truly think of a plan that would allow me to bring Light City back to its old glory…and then, one day, in the process of my normal life…I found it."

"Roman."

"How astute."

"He helped you?"

"He never had anything to do with this. He was clueless, never realizing he'd become another piece on my board."

"………..Of course." Chesbro said. "He was the one I couldn't figure out…until I saw you just now, screwing with that girl's head. He said that he started feeling the urge to collect all that information he had when he was sitting in on an interview Tercero was giving to a paper…Tercero was giving that interview to you, wasn't he?"

"Indeed. I think that interview that a test to see if I was going to play ball. I didn't: I asked Tercero the hard questions and next thing I know I'm being asked to step down as editor. But…it was worth it, and not just to verify my opinions that one of the things that needed to go was Tercero. I'd seen Roman around my school before, but seeing him in that office…I realized he felt the same way I did. And I thought…I could use this. He could help me do what had to be done, and in return he could get what he wanted. Of course, I couldn't TELL him that, because I had no idea if he'd go for it and even if he did it could be revealed we were colluding with each other, which would throw a big monkey wrench in the rebuilding."

"Roman said he thought someone was watching him for months. He thought it was Stephen's Pierce's men…it wasn't. It was you." Chesbro said.

"Indeed. It's not hard to sneak up on someone when you can move like I can. I followed him home, and I planted the idea that he needed to gather information on the worst of this city…that it would comfort him. And he did. With his position and personal feelings, he did quite a bit. I never could have done it without him, as he slaved away collecting all the data, and when he dozed off I'd slip into his little room and copy it down. True, it looked bad when he was discovered…but besides my little suggestion, he had no connections to me…and in the middle of my…corrections, I had a feeling it would be overlooked when it was all done, all the bad people were dead, and Roman, known to the ones that matter as someone who could help the city…as just a coincidence. After all, Cauterize is dead now. Roman is very much alive. So he's not Cauterize…and there's no evidence he ever met or knew Cauterize. People have held office with worse things over his head, and when Roman starts helping this city, I'm sure people will learn to accept it as said coincidence. After all, what else could it be?"

"And Toby?"

"Ah Toby." Elijah said, as if he was discussing the weather. "He was the perfect fall guy. A runner, obsessed with regaining his old glory, parents who barely knew anything about him because he was so busy with his running, in a town that had crucified him for the sin of getting injured…it really was perfect."

"The workshop in his house?"

"I had that assembled and ready to go months before I started this. Once I grabbed Toby during one of his runs, it was just a matter of quickly assembling it in his basement when no one else was there. Same with the computer."

"And the diary?"

"When you can copy out someone's essays a hundred times in a minute, it's fairly easy to learn how to fake someone's handwriting."

"And you weren't worried someone would figure it out?"

"I didn't have a set agenda last night…but when I saw that truck, and I did see it coming, the idea just came to me. When I grabbed him, I had to replicate my injuries on his body, and I couldn't do that exactly, especially due to that damn alien's blood…so I made sure he was very carefully positioned. The truck erased the ability for them to tell details, and after everything I had put the Titans and this city through…I doubted anyone would look too closely."

"Well, aren't you clever."

"Flattery will get you nowhere Detective. Get to whatever point you want to make."

"Oh nothing…except Toby proves what I've been saying all along. You're no savior of this city. You're a cold-blooded psychopath."

"Oh?"

"You can try and justify the sins of the criminals you killed, of what Bialas and Tercero and Pierce did…but Toby was innocent…and you killed him. Not only that, you ensured he'd become infamous for what he supposedly did as well as drive his mother over the deep end. Heroes don't do that. People like you do. And it's not acceptable. That's why I became a cop, and that's why despite the vitriol you hold in your heart for them that we're going to be the ones to punish you for what you did. All the murders, but Toby's the most."

Elijah smirked again.

"You stupid, blind little man." Elijah said. "You think Toby was innocent?"

"What crimes did he commit?"

"The same crimes you looked the other way for with my stepfather. The crime of acting like a god by treating others like they were less then human."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You think Toby was just some poor innocent kid who I picked because he fit my profile of who people though Cauterize might be? You idiot. I may be a killer, but I'M not a monster. No. Toby thought he was the king of my school, thought that everyone should wait on him hand and foot just because he could run fast. And because people rewarded his accomplishments and didn't comment on his attitude, he thought what he did was perfectly right. Including treating me like shit. Myself and everyone else he thought deserved to be pushed around."

"Kids are nasty. It's part of growing up."

"Oh no Detective. You're wrong. There's a different between simple teasing and outright cruelty, and Toby was firmly on the other end. After all…it's not like the way my stepfather acted was a deep dark secret. People suspected and whispered about it. You would think that would convince a kid who was decent in his heart to not treat people like they were shit for giggles. But no. Toby pushed me around even more, it seemed. He took a very difficult period of my life and he made it hell…just because he thought it was oh so amusing. So no Detective. Toby was not an innocent victim. Toby was just like my stepfather Detective. He was MEAN. And he pushed and pushed and pushed without heeding the expression that for every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction. So, after ten years of being pushed…I finally pushed back. He brought his fate on himself, and he deserves everything he gets now that people think he's Cauterize." Elijah said. Without the glasses, and the way he was talking, Chesbro got a brief glimpse as the carefully constructed façade of coolness and necessity Elijah kept on his front slip slightly, the intense and furious hatred that acted as the fuel for his actions viewable for just a second before it was shoved back into the construct that Elijah had constructed for it.

"You're sick." Chesbro said.

"Maybe…but this city was sicker. But not any more Detective Chesbro. It's finally over. The dark ages are done. It's time for our personal Renaissance. Stephen Pierce is gone, his empire in ashes and the criminal element too scattered and broken to take advantage of it. His bootlicks Tercero and Bialas are freezing in the Ninth Circle, while Roman and your mentor Turnquist are ready to claim their positions and redeem them. Roman will bring in work for the rebuilding of the plants, not to mention several other ideas, and your mentor will clean out the corruption in your department and bring crime back down to where it once was, and maybe, once those clouds are gone, and our moon shines again…people will remember this city, and come back. We're on the cusp of this being a nice town again Detective…for everyone, and especially for my mother, who might finally be able to chase her own dreams instead of bearing the brunt of other's. But it all hinges on one important detail Detective: Cauterize is dead. His plans may have succeeded but he died carrying them out. It's over. But if you come forward with me and reveal all I have told you…it could all fall apart. Come Detective. You've lamented that your city was going to hell. Well, the descent has stopped. Now…do you want to put it in freefall again?"

Silence.

"No." Chesbro said.

Elijah smiled slightly.

"But I'm not letting you go either. Get up and turn around."

Elijah's face fell.

"You look surprised. You know Cauterize, for all your studying and observations, you don't know me very well. I won't sell my soul to get out of hell, and I won't let you walk away. I don't care why you did it Elijah. Murder is murder, and in this society, you have to be punished for it, no matter why you did it. Now get up."

Elijah shook his head.

"Ah Detective…holding onto your moral high ground even though the foolishness of it is staring you in the face…but then again, I'm not really surprised. You intelligence was always rather selective. I mean, here you are, having found the man behind the curtain…without ever realizing the key part of keeping that curtain closed."

Chesbro frowned, confused for the first time.

"What does that mean?"

"Detective…I framed Toby as Cauterize…but that requires one certain thing…and that is…Cauterize had to die…and in order for him to die, people had to think he was beatable. And to make sure that people thought that that was possible…" Elijah said, and left it at that.

Chesbro stared.

And then his guts turned to ice as he realized what Elijah was saying, and he began to issue a mental command…

Which he thankfully was able to stop, as Elijah was suddenly behind him, one thin but very strong arm wrapped around his throat as the other had grabbed his gun hand and changed its direction so it was pointing to his temple. Chesbro gasped slightly, started to move…and then stopped, knowing it was pointless.

"What's wrong Detective? Feeling tired?" Elijah spoke into his ear. "There's a certain advantage of using the Speed Force detective. It's not like steroids or growth hormones: it doesn't leave residue that can be traced after death. That's another reason people will think Toby was Cauterize…because his body certainly fits the role, and considering that he was always running around, not to mention his "missions"…no wonder he was worn out, constantly having to stop for breath, more and more as time went on…until he finally grew so exhausted that it lead to his death. Certainly speaks of a person who ran ahead without thinking his tasks through enough, doesn't it?" Elijah said. "Tired, Detective? I've been preparing myself for this week for the better part of six years. I've been training myself for at least two hours EVERY DAY. You ever wonder where I was getting all the stuff I needed for my plan, Detective? How I could make such efficient cuts in my targets? How I could build a helmet and special gauntlets and bombs? It was training, detective, years of it, zipping all over the world, taking a little here, a little there…and most of all, learning my limits, how to overcome them, then overcoming my new limits, again, and again. You think all the stuff I did this week wore me out to the point I couldn't even muster a brief boost to get over here before you shot? Detective, all that happened this week…I barely broke A SWEAT."

"You're lying. Dozens of people saw you…"

"What, breathing hard? Gasping for air? Having to stop more and more? You're not listening Detective. My plan always ended with the death of Cauterize, and for him to die people had to think he was fallible. I had a feeling metahumans would get involved as well…so I started laying the groundwork the second I began. The hyperventilating, slowing down, so called fatigue? It was all an act Detective. From the beginning, even for people who wouldn't notice it. I had to make sure people thought that Cauterize could be touched…that he could be brought down…one way or another, and for it to seem gradual, instead of suddenly coming out of nowhere, a sign of fakery. But the ironic thing Detective, is that ALL of it was fake. The truth is, Detective…the killing, the fighting, all the stuff I did…I wasn't giving HALF of what I was capable of. I was never tired Detective, not in the least. It was like faking an orgasm with women: how can you really tell the difference?"

"You won't get away with this. I figured you out. Others will."

"Oh I doubt it Detective. The Teen Titans are far too eager to get home, getting an ass whipping and then such a terrible moral failing as letting your foe get killed before you can take him in will make you long for such things. Light City is only too eager to move forward and start forgetting this week. And as I mentioned, it's not like Toby will be found to be lacking a something or other that showed he hadn't tapped the Speed Force. So as far as everyone else knows Detective, Cauterize is dead…everyone except you and me."

"You can't kill me. I'm not a criminal. I'm not even a bully like Toby. Kill me and you WILL be a murderer. It showed in the fact that despite your hatred of my profession, you never killed a cop."

"True…but as you mentioned Detective…heh, or maybe I should just say Chesbro…you're not a cop any more."

"That's a excuse and you know it Elijah. Just like you brainwashing that girl and calling it love, and you murdering hundreds and calling it necessary."

"Perhaps…but this was never about Kei Chesbro. It wasn't even about the city. Not mainly. This was for my mother, for every bit of pain she had to endure, every bit of torture this goddamn city has inflicted on her whether it's driving away my father, the atrocities of my stepfather, or her losing her job because Stephen Pierce is throwing a temper tantrum, every time her happiness, peace of mind, and sense of being was stepped on by this goddamn world. I won't let this world define her existence any more. Now I choose what happens to her, and I say, the rest of her life, she wants for nothing, and finds everything she wanted. Maybe I can find an lovely China doll to appreciate my special qualities, and maybe this is a nice town again, but above all ELSE, my mother will be HAPPY." Elijah said, and in his voice Chesbro heard the echoes of every champion who tried to take the holy land back from so called infidels, every soldier who went off to die for the sake of the purifying of the human race, and every terrorist who blew themselves up thinking that it would allow them to strike at a great evil and get into paradise.

It was a crusader's voice, and heaven help anyone who got in its way.

"And for that to happen…there has to be one more death detective. Yours." Elijah said. "But don't worry. I'm not cruel. You've seen that those who have mastered the Speed Force can do more then run on walls and make tornadoes Chesbro. I can do more then make people suggestible Chesbro. I can also accelerate certain things…like tissue decay…so that it looks older then it really is. True, it can be detected…if you happen to be examining the body on the Watchtower. Besides that, well…" Elijah said, as he tightened his grip even more. In the back of his head, one more connection was made in Chesbro's mind: Elijah's bulky, very loose clothes. Elijah had told the Titans that it was because his mom couldn't afford new clothes so he had to wear his hated stepfather's old ones…but that was the cover. The clothes were really to disguise the incredible body Elijah had acquired preparing himself for his quest, the body that was clearly revealed in Cauterize's skintight outfit, and a body that had a great strength that, along with his speed, was holding Chesbro fast.

"It will be quick Detective. I'll pierce your brain stem. You won't feel a thing. And the police department will get a call from an "anonymous source" that they saw some kind of digging going on in the backyard of the Garigen house last night. No one has seen you since you left the department last night Detective. I know: I went around today, hiding in the shadows, to check on things to make sure the end stages of my plan hadn't hit any snags. The police who come will find loose soil somewhere in the backyard…under which they will find your body. Apparently, you figured out who Cauterize was, and went to confront him yourself. Not the smartest thing, but you had just been fired, you were probably upset, you could use a way to get your job back…and you just don't much like metahumans. You found him, but he killed you, and buried your body before he went off to his final battle. The whole department will mourn you. You'll be given a hero's funeral, and people will use you as an example of a good cop, even after everything that's happened to you. Now…isn't that a good way to die?"

"You don't have to kill me. You could just use your finger thing to erase my memory." Chesbro said. He wasn't asking for mercy: he expected none, but if he was going to die, he was going to make sure that Elijah Versaw knew what he was doing: cold-blooded murder.

It wasn't a chuckle, so much, that Elijah made. There was some amusement in the sound, but there was also realization that Chesbro was right…and a dismissive quality that told Chesbro, perhaps even more then his previous tone, that Elijah Versaw had long ago forgotten about true mercy. Mercy that served his ends, maybe…but the rest had died, probably at the same time he saw his mother being brutalized by William Versaw.

"Maybe…but there's one last thing Detective…" Elijah said, and suddenly Chesbro felt a powerful yank as his gun was pulled out of his hands and tossed to the floor, even as a flash of light reflecting off something caught Chesbro's eyes. A butterfly knife was now in the hand that Elijah had used to hold his gun to his temple. In normal situations, Chesbro would have struggled, but in this case, he knew it was pointless: Elijah would immediately slip into a Speed Force state the instant he sensed any trouble and readjust his position so he could hang on.

"You threatened everything I just built, all out of some misguided sense of righteousness. It's probably the same thing, in a way, that Battlin' Bill used as his justification of beating my mother. You speak of punishing me…no, for threatening what I made for her, Chesbro, you have to be punished. You don't strike me as a religious type…but if I was wrong in my assessment, you had best make your peace with whatever god you have. And know that I don't really want to do this…but like this city, it had to be done. One last death. Goodbye, Detective Chesbro."

Elijah twirled the knife so it was facing down as he brought it behind Chesbro's head.

And the vibration rippled through the floor.

Elijah stopped. He blinked.

And Chesbro smirked.

"Looks like you were wrong in your assessment somewhere else."

The entire wall exploded inward, debris pelting Chesbro and Elijah as the teenager reared away, shielding himself as a frustrated scream tore from his throat, smoke blooming from the damage as he and Chesbro were smacked by the shockwaves and thrown to the ground. Chesbro spied his gun and scrambled over to it…

A fist thudded into the back of his head, and Chesbro's forehead slammed into the ground, the world spinning as he once again lost consciousness. Elijah rolled away as one last shower of debris came down and stopped, glaring at the smoke as figures appeared in it…

"Elijah…" Savior said.

When Chesbro had appeared, Elijah's expression had shown annoyance at best. Not this time, as the four Titans began emerging from the smoke, Elijah's face was contorted into an expression of intense rage.

As the Titans stepped in…having deduced the same thing Chesbro had. And they hadn't need a forgotten memory of seeing Elijah at a police picnic to make the connections Chesbro had. No. For Noel and Co, it had come when Beast Boy and Terra had found William Versaw's name in their file folder, and followed it to show next of kin…that included stepson Elijah Versaw. That had been part of it, but what had sealed it for Noel was when it was combined with the paper he had found, a copy of the Light City Shining, Elijah's school newspaper, with a front page story of having an interview with the mayor. It was postdated about six months…the exact amount of time, Savior remembered, that Roman Fernendez, a puppet of the Speed Force commanding teenager, had been making his war room. And just like Chesbro, once they finally saw the forest for the trees, the connections started coming fast and furious, as Terra, having forgotten it originally, remembered where she had seen, or rather smelled, the glue that had been stuck on the bomb that had nearly made her go boom: the science lab at Light City High, even as Savior remembered that when Toby Garigen had slammed open the door, Elijah had claimed it had mostly struck his foot…even though Savior could have sworn Elijah was leaning forward and it had hit his torso with more impact…specifically, his right wrist.

The rest was icing, and despite all that it meant, the Titans knew what they had to do, as they had made tracks for Elijah Versaw's house. Originally they had planned a more quiet entrance, but when a scouting Beast Boy had seen Elijah about to kill Chesbro, they had opted for a quicker, messier access.

And now they were in, as Elijah glared at them, and Savior, much like Chesbro, saw the eyes that had been looking at him when Savior had managed to smash his helmet.

"Elijah…you've got a lot to answer for." Terra said, as rocks floated next to her.

Elijah's expression twisted, as anger flared up, and then was shoved back down as it was replaced by…pity?

"Why couldn't you just leave dead well enough ALONE?" Elijah snapped.

The Titans went exploding out from the hole as Elijah blitzed forward and slammed into them with four resounding blows. Unfortunately, the Titans hadn't arrived like Chesbro and hadn't been able to overhear conversation like him. It would have been useful for them to know that Elijah had been faking his exhaustion and been fighting them at less then half power during their previous two fights, but it was too late for that now, as Terra crashed into a car windshield in the driveway of the house opposite the Versaw house, even as the three males just crashed into the house itself.

Elijah reappeared in his house, snorted, and then went over to Kei. The Titans would take a little bit to get up, as Elijah picked Kei up and zipped down to the basement, placing her on a cot there. With that, Elijah zipped upstairs, leaving Chesbro where he lay…

And stopped as the door to his mother's room opened, and his mother, Caroline Versaw, walked out, her eyes still heavy with sleep but also filled with fear at the terrible noise that had managed to wake her up from her sedative-caused rest.

"Elijah? What's going on? Elijah…?" she asked, confused.

"Shhhhhhhh…" Elijah said, as he stepped into his mother's arm, holding her tightly to comfort her. "It's ok Mom. I'll handle it."

"But Elijah…"

"I'll be ok." Elijah said, as he raised his right hand carefully placed two fingers on his mother's head. "Go back to sleep."

Caroline Versaw immediately fell asleep, and Elijah carefully picked her up and zipped back to the basement. The ceiling was heavily, HEAVILY reinforced: even if the house totally collapsed the two women would be safe in there. Elijah laid his mother down, brushed her hair, and gave her a brief kiss on the forehead.

Then he turned away, as his body tensed up and prepared for combat, even as he disappeared from the basement. He re-appeared in his room, walking up to his closet and opening it up, pulling open the hidden door in the back to reveal where he kept his gear.

"Dammit…" Savior said, as he staggered out of the house, as lights went on and people began waking up at the racket. "The bastard…"

"Is here." Said a voice behind Savior's ear.

Savior managed to turn around, but that was all he could do as Elijah's foot slashed out and slammed into his ankle, sending his legs flying out to the side as Elijah, dressed up in the red and black costume, slashed his arm up at super speed and smashed Savior through the living room window of another house. Beast Boy emerged, turning into a Triceratops, but he didn't even get to move as Elijah threw his helmet up into the air, zapped forward, and smashed both his fists into Beast Boy's bony head, the force so great it sent the huge dinosaur tumbling across the road.

"You just HAD to come here, didn't you?" Elijah declared as he approached Terra, who was trying to recover her senses. "The city was finally better, the vigilante was dead, and your duties were finished. You could have just gone home, but NOOOOOO!" Elijah snarled, and hurled his helmet at Terra, the heavy head covering klonking into her face and sending her staggering back with a cry, even as Elijah zipped over to catch his helmet in mid-fall, stopping next to the still stumbling Terra to do it, and then viciously backhanding her, sending her flying into the same house her three male companions had just rudely entered and nearly knocking the whole family who had gathered downstairs to see what the racket was over like bowling pins.

"You just had to keep digging, finding out stuff that everyone would have been far happier not knowing, and here you are, wanting to pick another fight. Then again, that's pretty much damn par for the course for you goddamn hypocrites, isn't it?"

Roaring, Scalpel leapt at Elijah, swinging his glaive.

Elijah snapped up his arm, grabbed the glaive by the shaft, absorbed the kinetic energy of the slash, and re-routed it in a very specific direction as he swung his arm around, the instantaneous alteration of the power acting much like super strength as he sent Scalpel flying through the air and crashing through the roof and into the attic of another house.

"Where are you when my stepfather is beating my mother black and blue? Where are you when my city is becoming a crime-infested hellhole lorded over by would be kings? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU WHEN OUR DAY NEEDS TO BE SAVED? NOWHERE! But the second, someone finally decides that something has to be done, no matter the cost, there you finally turn up, the proverbial bad pennies!"

Savior landed in front of Elijah. Elijah regarded him as if he was a pothole that should be avoided.

"Elijah…it doesn't…" Savior started.

"Yes, it does." Elijah said, and blitzed at Savior, kicking him in the face before he could even begin to process the thought that he needed to mount a defense, sending the hero flying backwards in a bone-breaking twirl. The white garbed teen finally slid to a stop near Beast Boy.

"I wanted the death to end. Despite what some people may think, doing these things isn't pleasant or easy, you know." Elijah said.

Terra swooped down from the sky on a rock, raising her arms. Elijah's free arm, the other holding his helmet, blurred as Elijah made a few thousand precise gestures in the space of half a second, the end result being an extremely powerful blast of wind that slammed into Terra, knocking her right off her rock and sending her tumbling down the street to join her two friends.

"But…it looks like, despite my best efforts, I still have a few more graves to dig. So be it." Elijah said, as he lifted his helmet up.

Scalpel exploded from the attic in a shower of wood, bellowing a Blacktrinian battle cry as he fell down towards the ground…

Elijah zipped over and phased his hand right into the spot Scalpel was going to land. The alien landed, and then bellowed as the ground exploded under him, sending him across the street and making Elijah's toss record four for four as he landed near his comrades.

"Too bad really. The world probably needs you. But I don't." Elijah said, as he went back to putting his helmet on, slipping it over his head, and then closing the visor shut and locking it in.

Groaning, the four Titans tried to get up, as Elijah vanished and reappeared in front of them, and he wasn't empty handed. In his hand were two new swords, three times as long as the previous ones and more katana like in design, both in sheathes.

"Like them? Original design for my weapons. Decided they were too bulky and went with the more streamlined ones. Though I'd have no more use for them…but I held onto them…and it's a damn good thing." Elijah said, as he unsheathed both swords and tossed the blade holders aside as he transferred a blade to each hand. They were just like his previous ones, black with gold trimming, and carefully sharpened: you never knew when you could need something.

"Elijah…" Savior said as he tried to get up, his teammates trying to follow.

"No begging for mercy now. You decided to keep poking your nose where it didn't belong, and now it's going to cost you your head."

"…Self righteous little…" Savior said, raising his arms.

"Oh what's this, are we trying to FIGHT?"

Elijah tossed the swords into the air, and then Savior and the other were suddenly assaulted by a furious barrage of punches and kicks that bombarded the four teens for three seconds before they stopped. The group collapsed, as Elijah reappeared, leaning up and catching his swords.

"Fight me?" Elijah Versaw, aka Cauterize said, as he raised his right arm, the black blade glimmering from a streetlight. "You can't fight me Titans. You can't even begin to KEEP UP."

"No."

Behind the helmet, Cauterize arched an eyebrow, and then turned at the voice…and for the first time…he realized that he was in trouble.

Because Savior hadn't been kidding when he had said they couldn't win. So Savior had done the only thing he could.

Called in backup.

As Cauterize looked at the figure standing on an upturned car, his arms crossed, his yellow and red outfit ending in twin red jagged prongs sweeping back from his head, the costume cutting off at the top to show a newly trimmed but still rather shaggy mop of red hair, and a pair of determined eyes that reflected in the black glass of Cauterize's helmet.

"But I can." Said Kid Flash.

(Writer's Note: Oh I'm sorry. Did I say to be concluded last chapter? Did I give the indication that the story would be ending here? Oops. I LIED.)