"……………."

Cold pavement.

"……………"

Pigeon coos.

A flapping of wings.

Cool shadows passing over.

"……………"

A twitch.

A wince.

I stirred.

Ah jeez……

I sat up, black eyes shut.

Rubbing my head.

Teeth showing.

That's the last time I spend the night with a steamroller……

"……….."

I opened my eyes.

Pigeons flapped and scattered up into a deep blue sky.

A bright….blue sky.

With lots of sunlight.

No clouds.

It stabbed me through my shades.

I squinted.

Good morning to you too, City.

I stood up.

Wobbly knees.

I flexed my flesh and metal fingers.

I was unarmed.

I looked down at the floor.

Myrkblade……

The wooden sword rested a few sidewalk panels away.

I walked over, picked it up, and sheathed it into the scabbard hanging over my back. CHIIIIING!

I took a deep breath, straightening some of my long bangs of black.

Johnny Rancid……

I turned around.

The City Street was spotless. Immaculate. A few cars were parked innocently in parallel spots. Pedestrians walked down the sidewalk. Some with dogs on leashes. Some families together and chuckling over one thing or another.

But I wasn't quite so concerned with what was there, but rather what wasn't there.

I blinked.

Rancid's gone.

So's his smashed-up bike.

I looked down at the barren, cold sidewalk.

And that canister core thingy he was carrying……

My jaw tightened.

He must have gotten away with it. Damn……

Suddenly…a shiver.

I felt a chill all over my body.

And then a coldness….like being pulled into a vortex.

I cringed all over, slightly alarmed.

But as soon as the cold sensation started….it ended.

And I felt warm again.

"…….," I blinked.

Okay……wyrd……

I took a deep breath. I nonchalantly started pacing down the sidewalk. I whipped out my communicator and flipped it open with a Star Trek sound.

Better update the Titans. Hopefully they're fairing well enough that robo-dog bucket of bolts to help out……

I pulled the retractable wire out of the communicator, plugged it into my metal limb, and clicked my forefinger and middle finger. I thus sent a morse code message through the airwaves so that they may pick up my distress.

'Titans. I lost track of Johnny Rancid. I think he still has the energy core. Can you spare Starfire or Beast Boy to do reconnaissance?'

As I did so, I gazed around the surroundings once more.

The weather had seemingly changed. It felt warmer, brighter. And—combined with the carefree enthusiasm on the faces of the citizens—a bit happier too. There was a sense of wholesomeness that I hadn't seen or felt since—I dunno—the days before Slade died.

I walked past a guy and girl on the sidewalk.

I smiled and nodded politely at them.

They eyed me and my scabbard. They held each other by the arm and distanced themselves from me as we passed by.

I blinked under my shades.

They hurriedly went down the sidewalk.

"……….," I stared at them over my shoulder.

Okay……

I know I'm the 'dark Titan', but that's a little too paranoid. Isn't it?

The Titan communicator vibrated.

"?" I looked down at it.

There was a reply being sent back to me. But…also in Morse Code.

It interpreted:

'Energy core? Johnny Rancid? Who is this? How did you get on this frequency?'

I blinked wyrdly at that.

A beat.

Uhm……

I clicked my fingers.

I sent a message back: 'Cyborg? Raven? Why are you not responding with the audio signal?'

I waited.

But…..

There was no response.

"…….."

I took a deep breath.

I pocketed the communicator away.

They must be too busy with Rancid's distraction.

I fidgeted nervously.

But……what was all that about anyways?

Maybe Cyborg has more circuits fried than any of us think—

I shook out of it.

I had to find Rancid.

Besides, I was more than capable of taking responsible action on my own. I shouldn't have needed backup that desperately. I would just have to…..gain some height.

I looked up a building side.

I followed the floors up with my black eyes.

Eleven stories.

That should do it.

I summoned murk. I flexed my limbs. As the smoke started to pour…I glanced left. Down the street from which I came. The very same street where I fell unconscious after the climactic scuffle with Johnny Rancid.

And—if but for half a second—I stumbled.

My eyebrow raised.

For I suddenly realized that there was not a single scar on the asphalt of the street. Not a single link of metal chain. No broken glass and no motorcycle bits.

Everything was immaculate.

Huh……

Wyrd.

SWOOOOSH!

I ignored a gasping pedestrian on either side of me as I blurred up the opposite buildingside in a wave of smoke, scaled the height, and ascended to the towering rooftops.

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A half an hour later, I paused in the midst of my frantic roof-hopping and froze on a building's outer ledge.

Breathing hard. Regaining my lungs. Resting against the wind-blown structure.

Black hair drifted in the air currents as I squinted down through my dark shades from the twenty-story position I was at.

The streets seemed busier than I remember. And much more colorful and discernible too. The rapidly available sunlight lit up the curves, contours, and textures of the City that I almost forgot it had. People move, drove, bicycled, and skated like half-a-year of fear was gone from their lives. Everything was so lively and vibrant.

And….

There was not a single reconstruction site to be seen.

Which bothered me.

My lips parted somewhat.

Surely the volunteers wouldn't have gone home this early.

The organizations from Metropolis and Star City especially made it clear that cleanup crews and first aid paramedics would remain in the City for a month, at least. Everyone the nation over had pledged from the bottom of their hearts to help all of our citizens recover from the horrors of Dagger's offensive.

But as I looked around, it became awkwardly apparent….

It's not that the reconstruction workers are missing. The sites themselves are gone. It's almost as if……

I blinked.

Main Street was in one piece.

A building I could have sworn was at least half decimated a week ago was suddenly and undeniably whole. And as I scanned the cityscape. The Jefferson Building. Maureen Hall. Blue Square. They were all standing. Standing and blinked.

What in the Hell? I could have sworn at least the HIND blasted those things down……

I looked around. Quite distracted. Quite confused. And—ultimately—feeling quite stupid.

My black eyes noticeably breathed past a huge waste of blue space. I did a double-take and looked once more.

Blue space?

There was a huge open spot of visible, blue sky. Enough for a zeppelin to breeze through. It felt like a gargantuan gap in the middle of a row of urban teeth. It took very little time for me to figure out why.

Where is Kobayashi Tower?

Indeed. The City's tallest skyscraper. The center for JCN Broadcasting. The worldly renown trademark of our City with its dazzlingly huge, pale, shiny satellite dishes atop a sloping, glass summit…..

It was missing.

My heart skipped a beat.

The chill again.

The feeling of being sucked into an eternally small dot in the unseen void.

I gribbed my shivering limbs and warmed the queer sensation away.

My body shuddered.

I clenched my eyes shut. I shook my head. I gulped, and reopened my optics.

Get a grip over yourself.

Your tangle with Johnny Rancid……

It got you confused. Dizzy. Disoriented.

I ran a hand through my long black hair and sighed in the wind.

God, I need to sleep.

But……

Once I find Johnny Rancid first.

So I summoned murk, shook off the queer feelings creeping all over me, and blurred down the building side to head northward.

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Another half an hour passed…

My search was a fruitless one.

Gazing down into the yawning streets of the sunlit City, I saw no sign of the notorious biker. His black head of hair and cackling voice was lost to me. I helplessly stumbled from rooftop to rooftop, murking and teleporting and blurring in a hurried attempt to locate the source of the pilfered energy core.

But to no avail.

I groaned mutely and frowned as my pace slowed to a crawl from one laborious skyscraper summit to another.

Okay, so I tracked him down.

We fought in the street.

The fisticuffs turned personal.

And……

A bright light.

I exhaled. I stopped and perched besides a t.v. antenna. I gazed down towards a stretch of road besides a playground full of giggling children several stories below.

That wasn't it.

There was a reason for a bright light.

I winced.

My head still hurt from the collapse and unconscious spite on the cold, hard sidewalk.

Myrkblade……

It pierced the canister, didn't it?

And……the energy core burst.

A breach.

I shook my head.

But, that can't be it.

Rancid took off.

He and his bike were missing.

And the damage our scuffle had caused.

I sighed.

That I couldn't explain…..

"……….?" My neck craned. I saw something on the fence bordering the playground. Something….striking.

"……."

I gripped the ledge of the building, took a breath, and nimbly vaulted over it.

Blurring.

SWOOOOSH!

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Plant!

I landed on the sidewalk.

Two women walking dropped their groceries and gasped at me.

I looked at them. Simpered. And waved.

"!" they swiftly spun around and ran.

"…….," I blinked.

There it is again.

What's going on? Has Glover been spreading rumors again?

I shrugged.

I shifted Myrkblade's scabbard on my back, walked across the street when there was no traffic, and approached the fence around the playground.

And I froze.

My lips parting.

A chill ran through my limbs. A very familiar chill.

A layout of identical posters lined the fence. In dramatically-colored illustrations, the posters depicted a villain with a face mask of black and brown industrial metal. Breathing slits. An emblazoned eye. One.

The words of the posters read: 'WANTED: SLADE. DEAD OR ALIVE.'

I shuddered.

Why……are these posters up here?

I looked up and down the street.

This is an old part of Town.

I looked at the fence again.

Some moron City official must have forgotten to take these down from July Fourth months ago……

Still, it was a haunting sensation.

I felt a tingling sensation in my metal limb.

I gripped my titanium wrist and shuddered.

He's dead.

He's dead………

Stupid posters.

And it only took me half a step to stumble upon another poster and nearly pratfall—

'WANTED: BROTHER BLOOD. ALIVE FOR QUESTIONING'

"………," I blinked.

Brother Blood?

Who in the blue Hell is Brother Blood?

I looked down the street.

Utterly confused.

Utterly tired.

Dammit……why couldn't the Titans have responded to me?

I fingered the communicator in my pocket.

I contemplated contacting them again—

I heard a voice.

A distant voice.

"?"

I turned. I looked across the street.

A few blocks down, there resided a strip of low-end buildings. One of them was a grimy thing plastered with the words: "John's Auto Repair'.

My black eyes narrowed under my shades.

I remembered reading bios on the past life of Johnny Rancid.

And a strange thought hit me.

What are the chances?

But……

Of all the worst places to hide out……

Nevertheless, I heard a voice. A distinctly rancid voice.

I fingered the hilt of Myrkblade, took a breath, and swiftly treaded my way towards the locale….

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

"Wow, gee thanks. You put an awful lot of work into the stuff we bring in, don't you, Rancid?"

A slick-black-haired man looked up. He smirked with dark eyes thin. "Please, Mack. It's Jonathan. Jonathan Raithe." CLUNK! He shut the hood tightly to a white sports car and wiped his greasy hands on a rag as he paced around the middle of the garage. All around him, blue-suited mechanics worked intensely on rows of cars, vans, and trucks on elevated racks. "I'm not 'Johnny Rancid' anymore. Hell, the judge would have my balls if I so much as said that word with even half a chuckle, I swear to God."

"Heheheheh," the customer having his car serviced ran a hand through his hair and admired the handiwork on the vehicle. "I still think it's weird, man."

"Weird? Why's that?" the former Rancid stared. "Think a guy can't turn around and make a difference with his life?"

"You were once the scourge of the Titans. The 'King of the Road'. You couldn't stop riding your motorcycle around wreaking havoc and making huge metal monstrosities to chew the City up where you weren't tearing rubber and—"

"I get the point," the dark-haired man snarled. A beat. He cleared his throat, composed himself, and leaned on the vehicle. "The fact is, those crummy days are behind me. In case you've never been there yourself, bub, prison sucks. And for a long while, all of my life was in prison. And—as a result—my life utterly and completely sucked!"

"Wow. You've been studying on Socrates too, huh?"

"Whatever, man," the former Rancid smirked and handed the man the keys. "My life was given back to me. And I gotta respect it. Lookit!" He gestured around the entirety of the noisy, busy garage. "I got my shop back. My co-workers have returned to me. I'm still doing what I've always been good at. I can still be badass…just in another way."

"So…not so much a softy, huh?"

"Heheheh….hell no," the man smirked. "The Titans taught me two things. One….the feel of being slammed into a minivan to the point of my skull cracking. And Two…..that there's no point in me ever…EVER….getting into a fight again."

CRASH!

The ceiling caved in with a splash of splinters.

Mechanics shouted in horror and ran every which way.

THWUMP! I landed, crouched on top of a van above.

Rancid turned and looked up at me. He—and everyone else for that matter—blinked numbly. "Uhm…."

I took a breath. Frowning. SWOOOOSH! I dove at him.

His eyes widened-

WHAM!

I plowed into his body. Our bodies rolled on the grease-streaked floor. We ended with me jerking to a stop with my back to the earth, kicking my feet up, and launching him across the garage.

"WAAAAAAAAAAIE!" he twirled through the air and crashed through two tool crates. CRASH!

People gasped.

Mechanics cursed in horror.

I leapt up to my feet.

"Nnngh…," Rancid stood up. He rubbed his head. "What in the blue Jesus!"

I gritted my teeth.

CHIIIIIIING! I had Myrkblade up.

People gasped and cowered all around me.

"……," I glanced at them through the corner of my black eyes.

God, what's with everyone today!

"The Hell is your problem!" Rancid frowned at me.

SWOOOOOSH! I blurred at him.

He flinched.

THWACK! Myrkblade froze in an upswing, striking him across his torso.

Rancid's body ragdolled through the front windows of the shop—

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

CRASH!

He rolled onto the sidewalk, causing random pedestrians to jump back and gasp.

Mechanics from inside shouted:

"What the heck!"

"It's a frickin' psycho!"

"We've got a swordsman here trying to kill someone!"

I leapt through the window. I held Myrkblade to the side as I marched menacingly towards Rancid's stirring side.

"Nnnngh…look man….," he squirmed away from me on a sea of glass. Wincing and trembling all over. "….whatever I may owe you from all the crap in the past, it's over with. I'm through being a criminal! You got a problem with it, take it up with the judge!"

My eyebrows furrowed.

I frowned even more.

What trick are you trying to pull?

He struggled to get up.

I held Myrkblade out.

You think you can shoot an innocent woman inside a laboratory, steal a priceless energy core, and threaten the very lives of my friend and this City and get away with it?

GRIP!

I hoisted him up to my face level.

"Nnngh!" he winced.

CHIIIIING!

I held the tip of Myrkblade to the small of his throat.

He shivered and sweat, eyeing the blade nervously as I slowly encased it with serrated smoke.

I clenched my teeth and mouthed in the most articulate way that I hoped he could understand: 'Where. Is. The. Capsule?'

"What do you want! For criminy's sake, I'm just trying to make a living here!"

I practically snarled.

Stop playing stupid!

THWACK!

My eyes jolted a split second before I collapsed in sharp, ringing pain from a heavy blow to the back of my neck.

A mechanic stood behind me with a heavy wrench vibrating from the impact. "You leave him alone, you samurai freak!"

"Yeah!" a few burly others behind him nodded and held chains and crowbars at ready.

I rubbed the back of my neck, and glanced up at them.

Henchmen? Since when did Rancid have-

"Don't try any more moves, punk!" the foremost man from the garage frowned. "We already called the cops. Walker's men are gonna see you in the slammer sooner than you can—"

I stood up.

"I said…don't move!" he raised his wrench again.

"……," my face twisted.

SLASH!

With an effortless swing of Myrkblade, I sliced the wrench in his hand in two.

"!" he eyed the severed tool and stepped back. "Wowsers!" He stood besides his compatriots, all with eyes wide as saucers. All afraid.

I looked at them, panting. Still wincing.

No……

These are citizens……

I looked around.

Workers.

Truck drivers.

Kids walking home from school.

Mother clutching their children.

And all of them were frozen.

Looking at me.

Afraid.

I swallowed.

What's going on here?

Don't they know me?

Don't they know hi—

"!"

I spun and looked.

Rancid was running down the sidewalk. He skidded to a turn with a flurry of feet, panted, and dashed down an alleyway.

I clenched my teeth.

Crapness!

SWOOOOOOSH! I blurred after him.

The mechanics behind me reached out in vain. "Hey! Stop!"

I ignored them.

I gave chase.

They looked at each other.

"Someone call the Titans!"

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

As soon as I smoked my way into the alleyway, I heard an echoing sound of an engine starting up.

I froze to a stop.

Blinking.

SCREEEEEECH!

Rancid in a pickup truck came barreling out at me.

He gripped the wheel frantically, like a panicked gazelle on the run.

It was no consolation to either of us that the alleyway was only wide enough to fit the truck.

"DAAAAH!" he shouted and winced as the unstoppable vehicle bore down on me.

I held my breath. I blurred my feet. With a pulse of murk I ran up a side wall, jumped off it, flipped, and landed-right after the truck passed beneath.

VRMMMMMM!

It tore out into the street and throttled down the road.

I took a deep breath.

I gripped Myrkblade in a tight hand of flesh and blurred after him.

SWOOOOOOSH!

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I pursued Johnny Rancid into the heart of the City.

He swerved around traffic in the rusted pickup truck, trying vainly to lose me. I could see his panicked face in the reflection of his rear mirrors. I kept my distance so as not to force him to do anything drastic that could hurt neighboring traffic.

And then it occurred to me.

Johnny Rancid is being cautious?

And……

He's afraid of me?

I blinked as I blurred up a building side and out of view of his rear.

And how did he get into such a new change of clothes all of the sudden?

And why were those mechanics defending him as if……

As if……

I took a deep breath.

I jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

Speeding up.

Catching up with the vehicle in the streets below.

None of this day is making any sense.

Best that I toss Rancid into jail now and let Smith and the other investigators get information concerning the energy core from him themselves.

I twirled Myrkblade into a stabbing-down position, glanced down, saw Rancid slowing the truck….

And pounced.

SWOOOOOOOSH!

I blurred murk, slowing my descent from seven stories up and-

CRUNCH!

I landed with Myrkblade piercing deep into the engine of the pickup truck.

"JEEZ!" Rancid gasped. He swerved the vehicle left and right.

I held on for dear life.

SCREEEEECH!

He jolted the truck to a burning stop in front of a bar.

'Vincent's Pub' it read.

More screeching noises.

Civilian cars jolted to a stop all around us.

The City Street became blocked up with confused, concerned motorists.

Rancid sat frozen in his seat. Panting. Pale and jittery until-

CRAAAACK!

Myrkblade pierced down through the ceiling of the car along side him.

"AHHH!" he jumped.

CRKKKKKKKK!

I ripped the top of the car open like a sardine can.

Bright sunlight poured over Rancid's widening eyes.

I frowned down at him and reached in a metal hand.

GRIP!

I flung him out of the car and in front of the wide-stretching windows of 'Vincent's Pub'.

"WHOAAAA-" THUD! "OOOF!"

CHIIIIIIIIING!

I dragged Myrkblade along the sidewalk threateningly.

He winced at the grating sound.

I glared at him, black shades glinting.

I again mouthed: 'What did you do with the capsule?'

"I give up, man! What do you want! Can't you at least talk?"

THWAP!

"Ugh!"

I slapped him across the face with the blunt side of my sword.

WHUMP!

I slammed my boot over his thigh.

He winced.

I leaned in.

I mouthed: 'Stop playing stupid.'

"Nnnnngh….," he struggled and winced all over.

I had about had it.

After all the Hell Dagger put this City through….Rancid was just about to pretend like he raised Hell and could get out of it by being coy?

I raised Myrkblade to knock his lights out….or at least show him that I could.

If he didn't 'fess up.

But he merely winced…..and then suddenly brightened as he looked at something over my shoulder.

"?" my black eyes thinned under my shades.

And then I heard it.

VRMMMMMMMMMMM!

A rapidly intensifying rumble of a steel horse from behind my back.

So….gripping Myrkblade…I coldly turned around….

And looked.