Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, and if I did some guy like Bill Gates would buy me out. Ahh, dreams…
A/N: Thank you THEJAYMAN, and because you're the only one who seems to care enough to take 13 seconds to right a review, you get a little gift…later in the story.
Pain tore at Robin's head. 'Am I sure that bullet didn't hit me and this is just some crazy hallucination before I die?' but the wind on his face felt very real as he ran towards the entrance to the sub pen, where the Titans kept the T-Sub. It would be difficult to pilot alone but he would manage, 'I always manage.' He thought. He looked behind expecting to see Agent Keys trailing him, but was slightly relieved to see no one following him.
Hours later and he was in his only other safe house, the sub having been abandoned long ago at the bottom of Jump Bay, at least 30 miles from where he was now. Robin knew he needed a plan; he needed a place to find answers. He watched the evening news but saw nothing about the Titans, no one had noticed they were dead yet and more importantly, he himself was not yet on the news as a deranged escaped killer, the information had been withheld, by someone with money or power or both. 'Thanks Bruce' Robin thought as he switched off the TV after they had moved to local weather, it looked like rain.
"Alright, time to analyze the situation." Robin said to himself. Picking up a tape-recorder "Robin emergency log, and situation report entry number one, dated…" a short pause as he looked at his watch "11:14pm, June 18, 2005. I woke up this morning being transported, as a prisoner, in the custody of the FBI; I assumed at the time that an enemy had captured me, as I was unaware of them being Federal agents. I made a quick escape, and did not harm any of them seriously, after questioning one Special Agent Simon Keys, I was informed that my team, The Teen Titans, was dead, and I the only surviving member was the one responsible. That I…had murdered them." Robin paused for a moment, his voice chocked up, but he quickly regained his composure and continued. "I maintain my innocence and am currently searching for answers. At around 9:00 pm I made my way to Titan's Tower, as I was still unconvinced of my team's statues. I searched the tower, only to find…" Robin hesitated only a split second and continued, with almost no emotion in his voice. "that my team, my friends, were not there, and that no sign of them having been there was younger that three days old. I can only surmise that I was told the truth, and at this time, have no evidence to the contrary." Robin took a drink from the bottled water he had put with the emergency supplies. "Only a few minuets after I arrived, and FBI SWAT team assaulted the building, they had obviously traced my movements after my escape, and I can only assume that my first safe house is compromised. I neutralized the FBI team with non-lethal force and then had my second encounter with Special Agent Keys…and I found out that he is a very good marksman." Robin laughed lightly, fingering the heavy bandage he had to apply to his ear. "I escaped from him a second time with only minor injury, and made my way to my second safe house. From here on out I have only a few facts and very sketchy memories to help me get to the bottom of this, the memories come sporadically and when they do, it's like being hit by a truck. I have many theories now, but almost nothing to support them. I will make further installments on this log when more of this plot at hand comes to light. Robin out." Robin pressed stop on the tape recorder and took the tape out as he set it down. He went over to a corner of the Room he was in and sat at the large electric console that had many different devices set up and connected. After making a copy, he put the original bake in the recorder, and put it in a backpack. Then, he took the copy and put that in the backpack too. "OK" said Robin, cracking his knuckles "time for some hacking." And with that Robin sat down and the computer and began typing furiously, pulling up command prompts and running original programs of his design. After about 15 minuets his printer came to life and spat out four-dozen documents in short order. "The FBI calls THAT security? Where are my tax dollars going?" Robin picked up the thick stack of papers and sat at the small table in the safe house's kitchen and began to read through them.
Several hours later and Robin was completely exhausted, he had reviewed almost his entire case file, which despite his own comic wit was extremely hard to obtain. There were only a few pages that Robin hadn't looked at yet, but he needed sleep and could take care of them when he woke up. He made his way to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
Robin opened his eyes quickly and they were flooded with sunlight from the window facing him, he shut them just as quick and very tightly and rolled the opposite way and out of bed. He showered fast and donned jeans and a T-shirt, he needed to blend in with regular people to do this today. Grabbing his uniform, gathering up the file and a few more things, and throwing them into the bag he opened the front door in to Jump City rush-hour traffic of all kinds, Robin merged with the passing sidewalk traffic, no one even looking at him twice, except maybe a few girls his age. He walked for only a few minuets before he descended the flight of steps to the subway. Ridding the C-Line he got off at the stop right in front of the Jump City Main Library. Robin began crossing the street and was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice that the light had changed. He looked up and saw a city bus not more than 10 feet away, going at least 35; time seemed to slow down. 'Not enough time to move' he thought 'cars on either side anyway, after all this, this is how it's going to end.' The driver of the bus slammed on the breaks, but he knew he didn't have enough time to stop, but then miraculously the bus came to a screeching halt, the sound resembled that of a train putting on it's breaks, the grill came to rest millimeters from Robin's face. At that moment, Robin could have sworn he felt something, something familiar. He pushed it to the back of his mind. The driver was shouting something.
"What?"
"I said, Jesus kid, you alright?"
"Yeah" Robin replied, "Just my lucky day I guess." Traffic had stopped to gawk, so he wasted no time in hurrying into the library to lose the attention.
Robin needed a place to study this file, and odds were that the feds were in his second safe house now. 'First things first.' Thought Robin, stepping into the bathroom. It was on the third floor, in the Tax-Law section, so completely vacant.
Robin just turned the water from the faucet off and looked up into the mirror, into his own eyes. An explosion, he dived to the side. Cyborg and Beast Boy. Burning, already burning. They were to slow. They called for him to help. Their leader. Then gone. Dead. Starfire's eyes, full of rage and shock and fear. The windows smashed. The doors blown. A warehouse, that's where the call for them to go was. She screamed. Gunfire. She fell. Turning in the air in slow-motion as she did, a spread of bullets in her chest. Blood pouring out. Dead before she hit the ground. Raven. He couldn't see her. The battlefield around him. Her cloak, lying in a pool of blood. His mind raced with fear. He ran. Ran as fast as he could for the nearest door. Bullets raking the ground around him, passing inches from his head and body. He burst though the door, and was met with the stock of an assault rifle. He fell backward. Darkness crept forward. He saw something on the chest, before the lights were out, a crest, no, an insignia. A black S inside an orange circle.
Coughing and sputtering on all fours, Robin mumbled to himself "A warehouse…a warehouse…" gasping for breath as though he had been drowning "A black S" more gasping "in an orange circle." His eyes widened but his pupils narrowed. "Slade."
Robin had poured over everything in the file. He had bottled up his rage; he'd save it for Slade. It was a perfect set up, someone called in the feds and they caught Robin at the scene. Covered in the blood of his friends, laughing to himself, a gun at his side. They brought him in and he confessed to everything, without any prompting. Told them all about it. How he'd been planning for quite some time. He described exactly how he had done it, in excruciating detail. They assumed he'd lost his mind, got him a shrink, but the psychologist told them he was completely sane, or as sane as a costumed vigilante could be. Two days, he was in custody, two full days; he had no recollection of them, not even a hint. The day were lost 'Slade must have used some new kind of drug, goddamn it sure as hell worked good.' Their bodies were all found, around him, all except Raven's but he said he had chased her outside and when he shot her she fell into the river. She still hadn't been found. Robin hit a wall at this point, why had Slade done it? Two years of fighting the Titans, fighting Robin. Only to have some hired guns cut them down? No, not his style, not unless they would be in the way, in the way of something big. Robin started searching for any indication of Slade making a big move. An hour had passed and he still had nothing, but that's when he came across an invoice for 11 million dollars for political stickers for helicopters, paid for by Vandex International. 'Helicopter bumper stickers?' 'Soft money' to the campaign headquarters of Senator Victor Jayman, the former Chief Executive Officer of the Dalfor Corporation, a subsidiary of Vandex International, and favorite in the upcoming presidential election. Vandex International, a front for one Slade Wilson, criminal mastermind. Robin pulled up as much info on Vandex International as he could, there wasn't much due to it's private ownership, but a journalist had done some digging for him about a year ago when it was reviled that Vandex knew the vaccines it was selling at a huge profit to African countries didn't work. Robin looked though until he saw a paragraph about the owner, skipping over who Vandex did most of it's business with, and began reading. "…Little is known about the corporation's owner other than his obvious mega wealth, gotten at the cost of many other's lives, than his name. We have no first name, but we do know people call him Mr. Wilson…"
"Jesus, he's into politics now. Well…they're all crocks anyway." Just then the barrel of a gun was pushed into his back.
Well, that's one more chapter. Thank you to my only reviewer to date and I gave you something, like I promised. The second reviewer gets a prize as well. I'm sorry it had to resort to that but it did, no changing that now. Very suspenseful right? Who do you think it is? Guesses anyone?
