Duped

Robin drummed his fingers along the cool table top, pads of his fingers tapping softly in the silence of the Tower. He'd turned off all the lights and activated the nighttime security, so no one had reason to come down and disturb him other than for the sake of disturbing him. The dimly lit main room cast contorted shadows across the far wall; the dull, electric glow of the computer console casting pale light across Robin's pallid features. The multi-camera views in front of him divided the main display into several vigils of Jump's empty streets.

His fingers rose and fell more heavily in agitation. He keyed in a one-handed command and several windows leapt up, streams of information cascading down the face of the display. The teen's masked eyes darted, skimming the words and drinking them in, searching for an MO, a pattern, a new lead, hint or clue that he had not already exhausted the night previous. The dancing letters making up over a hundred recently reported burglaries, police tip-offs, and new faces emerging in Jump's criminal underbelly.

Why? Why was this so difficult?

He'd tracked much bigger game than a thief before. Much more dangerous and evil criminals in his vigilante career so why didn't this come easily to him? Why did all his leads go cold? How did Red X function in a city so hot? Robin knew by frequenting the scandalous night-life that several unsavory groups, all territorial by nature, wanted X dead or gone. Dead preferably. He sold to all the biggest, illicit collectors and buyers and yet no one knew his real voice, his real name, his real face and most of them didn't even know why he called himself Red X, having not even seen him in work uniform.

So how the hell did he do it? He knew obtaining and maintaining that kind of mystique cost more than a couple brain cells to pull off and plenty of shrewd felon know-how. As much as Robin hated (with a terrible loathing) to admit it, Red X had him (temporarily) at his wits end and what's worse, his team didn't seem overly concerned about it.

Now, Robin knew his natural drive to 'win' gave him more focus and more dedication – some would call it obsession – with his chosen objective. Knowing this, he didn't want to ruin the newly established sense of trust he'd accumulated between himself and the other Titans. The things he'd said both with Slade alive and later dead had seriously shaken his friends' trust in him, if not their confidence in his judgment. He didn't want them worried needlessly over his vendetta against Red X. He knew where his responsibilities lay, but being bound to them sometimes frustrated the Boy Wonder.

They didn't seem to understand how important it was to bring X down. Not for the city and not for him.

Now Robin, being a good and upstanding kind of guy, knew that just because X reminded him of his past weakness didn't give him the right to get angry with his team. Just because they didn't view his personal turmoil as a valid reason to go gallivanting off into dark allies every night in search of remote leads to a guy who'd all but proved himself a thief, but a thief who refrained from the unneeded violence, didn't sound like a very heroic thing to do. Heck, if Robin had been any other Titan but himself, he'd think the same thing.

Chasing Red X wasted too much time and effort and simply to save a couple fat-cats their money while they could focus their attentions on real psychopaths like Blood, Johnny Rancid and the like.

Speaking of psycho, Rancid busted out of jail and blasted a couple hundred thousand dollars worth in automobile damage running through the underground parking lots yesterday, flattening cars with his motorcycle. With Cyborg already on his way to Steel City Rancid's escape had made it a particularly irritating time for the four remaining Titans. Not to mention Dr. Chang had vanished from his cell the very same night. They had their hands full now and Robin's personal turmoil was a lousy reason to blow time hunting Red X

But nevertheless, the fact that they didn't view his personal turmoil as a good and valid reason kind of hurt…

His gaze flitted across the keyboard, eyes following the familiar pattern of keys that would unlock that site. He bit his lip. No. He didn't need to. Not tonight, besides, he'd said rain check. The teenager turned away from the screen momentarily and suddenly found himself craving a midnight snack…literally. The clock read 12:05. He pushed back, his chair rolling away from the desk. He bounced up and meandered toward the fridge, opening the door and allowing the pale light of the inside light to brighten the room.

Several unpleasant, blue, fuzzy somethings squirmed and Robin snagged the box of Chinese takeout before the suspicious blue life forms could contaminate it. He kicked the fridge door shut with a light tap of his heel and leaned against the counter, looking at the main display from the kitchen. He ate as he thought, contemplating.

A thief…a real thief. Robin had pretended once, been forced to steal once, but pretending and obeying didn't give you the same sensation as stealing for real. What would drive someone like X? Simple greed didn't seem quite right anymore. No. If he just wanted money he could take his skill where the payoffs came more often and at a higher price tag, but he stayed in Jump City. Why?

'I just want to be number one.'

Robin's eyes narrowed. "Are you calling us out?" he murmured softly. Are you calling me out, he added silently, privately.

"You'd think robins would keep better night hours than bats," a droll voice remarked.

The masked Titan turned sharply as a dark figure seemed to materialize from the side door, yawning mildly as she did. The pale but well featured face of Raven glowed slightly in the dim lighting, casting her lavender eyes into shadow and making her soft lilac hair shimmer. Apparently she'd awoken thinking not to run into anyone because she'd left her cloak in her room. The moonlight through the giant windows danced across her bare legs and tiny, unclad feet. Her gem belt had come off, her hair looked somewhat rumpled and bed-messy and without the cloak she looked particularly slender and delicate in the dim light.

Perhaps that same delicateness drove her to hide it under a heavy cloak?

"Hey Raven," Robin said with a grin. He placed the takeout on the counter and gestured she come and join him.

She obliged, gliding through the air, inches above the carpet and kitchen tile, sparing her feet the cold contact. She floated up to seat herself above the kitchen island, hovering in lotus position and looking demurely down at the spiky-haired boy. For her view, he figured that he must looked somewhat rumpled himself, having tossed and turned a few hours before coming out here to read police files and watch the monitors. He too had left his cape somewhere since he preferred not to suffocate himself with lightweight alloy-fabric in the middle of the night.

"So," she drawled, looking at the computer screens across the room. "Spending your midnights in a healthy manner I see?"

"I couldn't sleep," Robin said defensively.

"Clearly," she replied, summoning a glass from the nearest cupboard and telekinetically drawing herself a glass of water. Robin watched her with the mild fascination anyone lacking such powers did and tossed the empty takeout box in the trash.

"My head won't stop going even when I do," sighed the young leader mournfully. Raven sipped her water and seemed distant as usual…but strangely understanding in her own peculiar manner. Robin battled with himself whether or not to tell her his troubles with the Red X dilemma or choose to horde all his shortcomings and anxieties for himself as he'd come to do so often. Of all the Titans Raven, the most pensive and intellectual of the team, found Robin's words not entirely like a foreign language to her. Robin appreciated the translation skills.

She tilted her head. "Is it Red X again?"

Robin wondered if Raven's powers of empathy worked that well or if he just had the thief's name stamped across his forehead. Either way, relief stole over him that she'd brought the subject up first, but part of him knew that she probably knew that too.

"It's like I'm the one out there doing it."

"But you're not."

"Obviously, but my conscious likes to disagree." Robin looked downcast.

Raven traced her finger along the lip of the glass. "X really gets to you doesn't he? Even though he's just a thief."

"I feel like he's what he is because of me somehow. That I made more than just a suit for him to steal. It's like he's everything I can't stand all rolled up into a single felon," Robin fumed. "I've had trouble with criminals before, but that last one that gave me this much grief was…" He stopped, almost afraid to say, as if by doing so he'd break some taboo.

Raven didn't do taboo. "Slade?" she offered.

Robin had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Erm…yeah."

Raven sighed and floated down to the counter top where she unfolded her legs and set them down on the cold tile floor. She leaned over to place a hand on his shoulder, guiding his gaze back up to hers.

"You're not alone this time," she said firmly. "You have your team behind you and when they don't understand…you have…me." She paused as if rethinking her words and then repeated herself carefully, rewording her claim. "I want to catch Red X too. We're in on this together."

Robin nodded and smiled. "Right. Thanks Rae."

The girl yawned suddenly and stepped back. "But for tonight…" she glanced at the quiet screens. "I think X is doing the non-night owl thing and getting some shut eye, like you should think about doing sometime soon."

"Don't worry," the boy assured her. "I'll get to bed in a little while. I'm just not tired."

Raven nodded and glided into the darkness hallway, vanishing into the shadows. Robin turned to look up at the empty screens, frowning at the video feed. He couldn't believe how quiet the east side docking facilities had been for the past couple hours…hardly even any traffic save a couple Fed-Ex trucks and an old-school Volkswagen bug just about nobody used the streets tonight. The teen frowned at the screen and moved back across the room, standing behind the couch and gazing up at the screen for a long moment, feeling…strange.

Something…didn't seem right…

The image on the left flickered and Robin's eyes flitted to the motion so quickly he had to reorient himself. Suddenly a terrible hunch slammed him in the gut and the Titan leader vaulted the sofa, landing beside the computer console, fingers flying across the keyboard, putting in the command he wanted. The screen to the top left enlarged and the Boy Wonder rewound the tape, watching a tell-tale line of static buzz along the display. Stomach tying itself in knots, Robin rewound the feed for the night.

A Fed-Ex truck puttered up the street at six fifteen…then again at nine…and once more at midnight. The license plate was the same all three times. Robin slammed his fist into the counter in rage, shattering the second keyboard in three months.

-heist-

"So…Mr. Peterson. I've heard so much about you."

The greasy little man bowed a couple times, shaky, nervous, twitchy…like a rat or a weasel. His second-hand suit had an unpleasant suede brown color and a large piece of lint hung from his left sleeve. His tie had come loose and his comb over looked shiny in the buzzing dock light overhead. The docked fishing boats and luxury yachts, all covered with protective canvas or patched blue garage tarps depending on the wallet size of the owner. The single hovering orb of florescent glowing glass overhead cast into sharp reprieve the dark shadows under the man's eyes and the paunchy, shallow tint in his skin.

"You don't look healthy Mr. Peterson. Not at all," he remarked, amused by the frailness of this human roach.

The roach wrung his hands, watery eyes darting around like someone would dare to eavesdrop on him. The man in the jacket snorted to himself, glad this twitchy little man would not be around much longer. Peterson had obviously not slept for quite sometime, his smuggling business having grown more stressful than ever before with the previous smuggling lords dead. The rumors about a very powerful someone wanting to meet with him had eaten away at his peace of mind for quite some time it seemed.

"Well, you see, sir," began the bookie breathily. "This…this little brat of a thief keeps dropping by and harassing me for information about the new smuggling operations – I didn't tell him anything of course! – but he's quite the mean little thug. Always breaking in, stealing my files, ruining my good suits…"

I can see that, the man thought, eyeing the dollar-store blazer with disgust.

"Ruining your suits?" he inquired.

"He ahh…thinks it's funny to throw coffee in my lap."

"…he throws coffee at you?"

"Heh, heh…well not exactly." The man in the jacket frowned. So this roach liked to twist the truth. He'd have to be very direct to get anything worthwhile out of him. "He waits until I've filled my evening mug, then sneaks up on me and scares me," the bookie mumbled, turning a blotchy cherry red.

The man in the jacket tipped his head aside, as if fascinated. "So then he's a prankster is he?"

"Yes. Quite. Cruel little cretin. One time he went so far as to embed his nasty little ninja star things in my chair," whined the man.

"He threatened you with them? Did he injure you?" The dark criminal had grown genuinely interested now.

Peterson frowned though and shook his head. "No…no he didn't do that. He'd always threatened me, but never actually hurt me. He's too much of a coward to do that I think. He's never once killed a guard or injured the security personal while on the job. He's the only thief who can say that in Jump City."

He thought on that a moment. "Interesting…Any experience with the Titans? Quite a bit I hear."

"Heh, heh. Now that's a story though," Peterson cackled, rubbing his hands together like a man about to drop the biggest of all gossiping morsels. "Now, nobody knows who Red X is, or where he came from, but everyone knows that for some reason Robin hates him. It's true! The Titan prowls around the city like a vulture by his lonesome, hunting X. They fight quite a lot, though that could be rumor since no one's actually seen them clearly.

"But the word on the street is that Robin's obsessed with catching X. Wants to nail him terribly," Peterson went on, feeling the rapt eyes of his audience hanging from his every word. The bookie didn't know why this man had such an interest in Red X, but he didn't really care. Anything to make life harder for that little upstart pick-pocket.

"Fascinating," said the new crime lord. "I hear he has a technologically enhanced battle suit. Is that true?"

"Yes. Stupid, ugly thing. Makes him look like a bad Halloween prop," leered Peterson. He fumbled around in his jacket and produced a glittering, crimson shuriken. Aerodynamically crafted, razor sharp, made of a light weight, high density alloy, the crime lord instantly had a new level of respect for this young rogue. Apparently, he had excellent taste in weaponry.

"May I see that?" he asked, voice carrying every fragment of his hungry curiosity.

Peterson stupidly bowed and handed the throwing blade to him. "Of course, sir. Now about Red X. Why so curious?"

"I'd like to repay him for an indecency," the man replied with a loving kind of smile as he thumbed the edge of the shuriken. "He's smart. He thinks he's smarter then me, but I'm going to prove him terribly, terribly wrong. Would you like to assist me, Peterson?"

The book-keeper's dreamy look of anticipation answered that question. "Oh yes! Finally!" The oily little criminal pumped his fist in victory. "Someone needs to crush that little bastard into the concrete. What can I do to help?"

The crime lord smiled. His fangs shone in the darkness as he lifted the deadly edge of the crimson projectile, savoring the look of blunt confusion on the little man's face. Then the gradual realization as he drew his arm back. The blood drained for his sallow skin and he began to blubber even before the crime lord answered. He licked out the single command like poisoned honey.

"Die."

Blood sprayed the docks like a fine mist of paint, coating the docked S. S. Lucifer in a new dripping color. The heavy thud of meat against rotting wood planks echoed dully, but not a soul did see the deed done. The murderer smiled to himself and turned on a heel, walking away, whistling to himself as he considered a fine Italian restaurant to which he'd like to pay a visit. But first…he slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

"I'd like to report a murder," he said with a smile.

-heist-

Somewhere in the slums of Jump City, on the outskirts of town, in a rundown duplex, above a cluttered fix-it shop in a room that smelled of cinnamon, Bannon Sasaki woke with a start. He grabbed at something under his pillow and jack-knifed in his bed, throwing the sheets from his freezing body with a sucking gasp. His shaking fist gripped a long gray knife between white-knuckled fingers as he sat there alone in the darkness of his room, staring at the closed door opposite him and listening to his heart hammer against his ribcage.

Shi-Shi grumbled at him, mewing grumpily from the floor where the young man's sudden awakening had thrown him. The black cat's luminous eyes glowed green as he bounded up on the pillows beside the sweating teen. He blinked at his cat, great gold and cinnamon tinged eyes bright with a feverish urgency.

"Did I…" he mumbled. "I thought for sure…"

Shi-Shi eyed him with disapproval. In the corner of the room the newly framed Una Notta Scura glinted in the moonlight peeking in through the slats in the Japanese screens. The redhead lowered his blade, tossing it on the comforter and groaning. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, the cold pads of his fingers tips sliding through the slick sweat soaking his pale face.

"Am I going crazy?" he asked Shi-Shi. He looked up between his long fingers at the cat, his voice muffled by the palm of his hand. "I swear…every night…I think he's here. Watching me. Grading me or something, you know?"

The cat glanced at the folded lap-top sitting on the counter. Bannon followed his gaze and blinked, wondering for the millionth time just how smart this feline really was. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and onto the floor, ghosting across the room and flipping it open. A small, floating computer company icon rose up on the screen before he logged on the net and opened his e-mail.

He sighed, noting that Alleycat Corner had no one of interest on tonight and clicked up his buddy list. A small window appeared and he keyed in a quick note to his friend, CircusRunaway.

You say you have insomnia. How do you deal with that? I count sheep but as I start to go to sleep the little buggers turn into mutant demon lambs and try to disembowel me. Any soothing remedies for mum or you got a good priest I can call? Reply soon. Us crazies gotta stick together.

-Bandit13

He clicked 'send' and closed the computer, a strange sense of relief ebbing through his body. Something warm and furry rubbed against his bare ankle and he grinned down at Shi-Shi, the jet black animal purring playfully. He reached down to stroke the cat and walked back his bed, laying down across the heavy blankets and staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't shake these night terrors, couldn't get his internal clock to go back to sleeping at night anymore. Too many dark, terrible things lurked in the closets of his mind at night, in the dark, by himself where Slade threatened to lunge out of the shadows and…

BREEP! BREEP! BREEP!

Bannon seized his alarm clock and hurled it against the wall. It exploded and fell to pieces on the carpet. Before it did, he glimpsed the face that read 11:36 PM. Growling, he buried his face in a pillow and pretended to suffocate himself. Maybe if he tried hard enough he'd pass out and finally get some sleep.

-heist-

Author's Note: Ahh...nothing like a little murder to spice things up. Ho ho ho! I'm having a bit of a writer's block but I'm going to get you the next chapter quickly as I can because I feel the need for a bit of Red X and Robin action! BUH HAHA!