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Chapter Four

1

November 21st

Gotham City, about 10PM

"Batgirl, Starfire, take the north. Robin, take the west. I'll take east and south." Batman's gravelly voice intoned.

Robin nodded and headed to the west side of Gotham, his stomach fluttering briefly, as he thought of Starfire essentially on her own. Amazing as Batgirl was, she wasn't as well respected by the criminals of Gotham. Batgirl wouldn't be able to make sure Starfire stayed safe the way he or Batman could.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he thought.

But then he fired a jump cable, and that amazing feeling of flying once more took over him.

There was nothing like launching jump cables through Gotham. No city in the world could match this town. Shadow converged on the gothic architecture, lending it a drama and darkling appeal rather similar to Raven's.

Raven. Now there's another matter. She hasn't given me any sort of report. Something could be wrong…

He launched another jump cable and swooped down on a pair of muggers. You'd think they'd learn not to lurk in alleys right off the clubbing strip.

He handcuffed them and hung them from a streetlight, then moved on.

Batman's voice over the communicator demanded a report.

He gave it, and then amended it.

Those shadows by that building were just a little too thick, a little too dark, to be genuine.

A break in.

He moved closer, his footsteps nearly inaudible.

He caught as flash of purple and gray, and his breath hissed through his teeth.

Catwoman. The infamous, beautiful thief with a bizarre fixation on Batman.

Well, he thought. At least it's me facing her and not Starfire.

Funny how that didn't make him feel any better.

He slipped even closer and was only a couple of meters away from her when she noticed him.

"Well, well," she purred, "what have we here?"

"Just breaking in, or have you already stolen something?" As far as he could tell, she had nothing new on her person.

She laughed softly, cracked her whip playfully. "You've been away for such a long time… I think that Bat missed you…"

"Ah, so you haven't stolen anything yet." Robin expanded the telescopic staff.

"And with a new weapon I see." She hissed. "Daddy must be so proud!"

The whip snapped towards him.

He heard a light ping as the metal tip of the singletail rebounded off his staff.

"So you've gotten a new weapon, too," he snarled.

They circled each other, their steps light, quick, sounding out on the roof like the staccato steps of tango dancers.

Snap-crack-ping! Snap-crack-ping! Snap-crack-ping! Step-step-step. Snap-crack-ping! Step-step. Snap-ping!

"Only an upgrade," she murmured in reply, but her voice sounded a little breathy, as though she were a bit out of breath.

He swept the staff out and it collided with her leg. He heard a sharp crack and Catwoman went down on the balcony, but before he could handcuff her, she had lashed out again.

This time, the battle began in earnest. He could barely keep up with her flurry of lashes.

She had a hard time evading all of his attempts at striking with the staff, however.

He had to admit that he wasn't surprised when she leapt off the balcony and vanished into the night.

She still outclassed him, even after two years of leading his own team, sharpening his skills.

Of course she did. It had always been up to Batman to stop Catwoman. Batman was the one who was evenly matched with her, skill for skill.

Well, except for one.

But at this rate, he would never catch her. So he slipped into the building to make sure she hadn't stolen anything.

2

November 22nd

Bludhaven

Beast Boy looked around him and snorted. And on the sixth day there was snow, he thought to himself. But he said nothing aloud; his shifting the paperboy satchel on his shoulders was the only hint as to his thoughts, and that gesture was a poor indicator of moods.

Members of the Doom Patrol might have been able to read him from that gesture.

But they were dead.

"Ring out the grief that saps the mind/ For those that here we see no more; / Ring out the feud of rich and poor," he mumbled to himself, "Ring in redress to all mankind."

"What was that?" Cyborg asked, the blue and white lights flashing a bit in the sun. "More poetry? Who would have thought you knew poetry."

Beast Boy shoved the old anger down, the wish that the other Titans would acknowledge him as having more intelligence than the meager amount with which they credited him. Cyborg truly didn't understand that the Logan family had educated him quite well; the mix of man and machines had never had to dim what he was for the amusement of others.

Raven would understand… Robin would understand, if he's ever had to live a "normal" life…

They would understand that he did it for them. Someday.

The snow crunched under their feet as they made their way towards the apartment he had leased (and he'd leased it with only a little help from Robin. If that didn't say something to Cyborg, Cyborg needed to have his head bashed in).

It took them forever (it felt like forever) to find the apartment building and get inside.

Cyborg's metal plating fogged up and Beast Boy resisted the urge to laugh like hell. He could do that when they got inside the apartment without breaking the door handle.

"Man, BB, what is it with you and dirty, disgusting places?" Cyborg wondered aloud as they opened their creaky door and stepped into an apartment that was only slightly less dilapidated than the Logan Manor.

"They're cheaper," Beast Boy replied. "Robin's hired a professional cleaning crew. This place will do until they're done."

He ignored the insult to his manor. After all, Cyborg hadn't seen it when it was at its best, had he? If he had, he would know that Logan Manor could never be dirty or disgusting— but it could certainly need a bit of work.

"Waitaminute," Cyborg said suddenly. "What's all this stuff doing here? Like the couch, the TV, the lamps…"

"Pre-furbished."

Beast Boy moved to the bedroom and smiled at the twin beds, each on an opposite side of the room. "I call the right side of the master room," he said, smiling at a memory that had begun to play behind his eyes.

"BB, are you feeling alright?" He heard Cyborg ask the question, but he couldn't see him over the sudden sight of his sister swinging in the backyard.

3

Jump City, CA

November 22.

Raven stared at the Jell-O she had analyzed. According to all of the sophisticated equipment, the red Jell-O was just that: red Jell-O, a food that was so obviously chemical rather than organic (like marshmallow cream and cool whip) that she didn't even want to contemplate eating it.

Her gaze slipped from the Jell-O to the card she'd found beside it, the plain white card with "Ongi Pasa" written on it.

After a huge search through hundreds of thousands of online dictionaries, she'd finally found a match: 'enjoy yourself'.

In Basque.

So I'm facing a bunch of Basque-speaking terrorists, who blew up an abandoned warehouse and left me red Jell-O… without even the common sense to poison it.

She sighed. Great. And my report to Robin is late. I'd better go make it.

But even as she moved towards her T-communicator, an explosion rocked the city. She went sprawling.

"Let me guess. My Basque friends," she muttered through clenched teeth.

I hate it when I'm right, she thought as she stared at the rubble of the Mayor's house.

"My house!" The Mayor wailed. "My house!"

"Shut up," she hissed tersely. "I know who bombed your house. I'll find them, arrest them, and the insurance will cover your house."

The Mayor eyed her with an obviously distrustful look. After all, she knew that he'd been involved in Slade's plan, mostly out of hatred of vigilantes, and that he'd tried to force the Titans to disband.

But he said nothing further. He merely turned away and began dialing a number on her cell phone.

She squared her shoulders and created a portal to the warehouse that the strange group had blown up.

She found nothing there, so she continued to the alley where she had encountered them.

Someone had left a manhole open, something that was technically illegal.

Idiots, she thought. This must be a bunch of amateurs.

But as she approached it, another thought occurred to her.

Maybe it's a trap.

She shrugged. With such a bunch of strange people, she could probably handle any trap they set. And if it turned out to be too much, she could always teleport back to the Tower, or perhaps even straight to Gotham.

She plunged into the manhole.