Renegade:
Chapter 15
Ark laid within his gelatinous cell completely unconscious. This sort of thing had been happening for a while; he would slip in-and-out of consciousness and most times he awoke to a lonely building, in a lonely room, in a lonely cell. The other times he was stirred by the sound of tapping on his glass casing by either Wraith or Vincent. Ark liked more when Wraith interrogated him because he knew that Raven was safe during that time, but through the loneliness he had grown to accept since he first left the organization and the interrogations he had no peace, not even in his slumber. During this time he was plagued by horrific nightmares of Raven being tortured or maimed. He saw Wraith do what he does best and it made him want to sob, vomit, and destroy every thing in sight all at the same time. Ark's eyes shot open as the image of Raven's torture flung him into a status of keen alertness. Cold sweat and tears mixed with the Koto healing liquid giving it a salty taste.
Raven, please be alive. Please be alive,Raven. I…I love you Raven and if Wraith does anything to you I swear I will take him down. Please don't be gone; I could never take losing you. I could plant a field of roses but they wouldn't compare to your beauty. I could taste the finest honey but your melodious voice will always be sweeter. I could look into the morning sun but my love for you shall forever burn brighter. I love you Raven. I love you.
The door rattled as a dark figure immediately identified as Wraith ventured forth. Ark knew it was time for another interrogation; he also knew he couldn't take the fear of what might happen to Raven much longer.
"You know why I'm here so I'll skip to the point. Tell us Cross-fire's location and your girlfriend will be safe."
"Cross-fire is dead."
"So you are going to spout that lie once more. Look, I don't care how convincing his death was to the others but to me it was more fake the reality television. So just spit it out before I get nasty.
This got under Ark's skin. It always got under his skin whenever they threatened Raven; when that happened he had a tendency to lash out but this time he held his tongue.
"Cross-fire is dead."
"So you want to play it the hard way? Fine, guards bring her in."
Two shock-troopers emerged from the hall-way holding a bruised, battered, and beaten Raven. The shock on Ark's mind would be equal to a father losing his entire family at once. It took a few seconds to register as he looked into those glazed, drugged eyes, that injured frame, and the realization that it was all his fault. Before Ark had a chance to threaten those responsible, Wraith revealed a vial of some sort of red liquid out of his jacket.
"Have you ever tasted demon blood Renegade? I assure the taste is to die for, or at least kill. I think I should comfort you so here's a little crunchy nugget for you, when she was crying out in pain, out of all the things she could have said she cried out your name. Don't you feel special?"
Ark stumbled for a sentence to say and could only come up with, "You're a monster."
"No," Wraith replied in his usual grim tone, "I'm an artist. Now, if you want me to complete my masterpiece then by all means, don't tell me Cross-fire's location, but if you want he to live then you better talk and talk now because my patience has all but run out."
Ark considered his options and didn't see much that was left. Should he trade in one life for another, slay a brother to keep a lover or vise versa. It seemed whatever he did there would be blood on his hands. He finally made up his mind.
"Okay, I'll tell you."
In the heart of a certain city there stood a large office building that seemed to erect a tense feeling. Businessmen would be consumed with worry while passing by this building on the way to a more peaceful occupation. It was the place little children would cry as their mother drove by then shut up when they went past it. This single structure made its occupants work and work hard. Signs like "Authorized Personnel Only" and "Employees Only" that regular trouble-makers would interpret as "Go In Already" and "Who Cares They Probably Have Candy" translate them into the message they were intended to be. Third wheels became busybodies and monkey wrenches became masterwork gears that meshed into the magnificent corporation that it was known to be. The owner of this establishment didn't know why people worked twice the work or why they didn't enter the places they weren't supposed to as and didn't care for that matter as long as they adhered to the system he had set out and as long as nobody went into the "Authorized Personnel Only" areas nobody would find anything he was trying to hide. It was now well into the night as the new moon gave off its usual darkness. Under this cover of night, Batman sought to enter one of these "Employees Only" areas.
Batman crouched upon the top of building over looking his target recalling just how he got there and what he was going to do in those "what if" circumstances. After the dinner party in Gotham City he investigated the home of the newly elected Gotham senator whose computer reveal a connection with him and the president of the Czerka Weapons Corporation. Batman thought this lead was clear enough to track so he investigated this link finding out that they had covered their tracks well as he could find few leads that didn't end in dead ends but the detective persevered and eventually found all he needed from the horses mouth. The senator seemed to have taken a trip to the same building that the Dark Knight went to and it seemed to be the most potent opportunity to find out all he knew, which it was. Not only did he give all the details on the Gotham Restoration Project, he revealed some clues as to what was happening at Jump City. Batman found these leads disturbing and his worries of Robin acted up again. So he decided to track the Titans down but was unable to find their locations. Instead he had Intel that a "Renegade" that had connections to the Titans was being kept as Czerka HQ so he thought he might pay the jail bird a visit.
Via a pipeline, Batman slid down the face of the building and onto the cold pavement below. He surveyed the next to abandoned parking lot which held anywhere from twenty to twenty-five cars. He snuck over to a cluster of cars but didn't take the risk of touching them because car alarms these days will go off if you so much as look at them in the wrong way, and when they do go off it's loud enough to wake up a man twenty miles away in a sound proof room. He risked a peek over the various trucks, cars, and SUVs to find that there weren't any guards around, just motion sensitive cameras that would catch him on tape. He timed their responses to find that there was a thirty second window for him to barge through the front door, but only an idiot would do that. Instead he noticed a nineteen seconded window that would allow him to scale the walls. He did just that. After the last camera made its pass he rushed all the way to the wall and to out his grappling hook, launched it up, and climb into an area that the cameras wouldn't notice him, all with three seconds to spare.
He climbed and climbed until he reached an open window and jumped inside. It was an office with a window depicting a cubicle work space. Though the window he could spot a lone worker tapping on a computer keyboard, probably either trying to doing a huge workload and get ahead of his fellow works or trying to finish up a project that he had put on hold until the last minuet. On the wall there was a list of the "Employees of the Month" and he's pretty mug was pictured about four months back confirming that the former assumption was the correct one. He would have to find a way to get past this project crazed workaholic.
Ark wallowed in his guilt. Cross-fire had been like a brother to him back when he was in the organization and left before he did. In fact, it was his leaving that eventually led our hero to question the orders given to him. How could he do something like that do his best friend? On the other hand if he didn't sacrifice Cross-fire's life then Raven would have died and he would have never let that happen, never. He felt as though he only choices were both kill, or kill and the debate over which choice to pick raged within his head. The professors began with their opening points and began their "discussion" (which was a nice word for argument). This time neither side would relent, neither philosophy had room to compromise to the other. He was able to know only one this for sure: What ever choice he picked, he would still be a murderer. It was just a question of who he would have murdered.