Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans or the New York Times.

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Taste what you've been missing…that delightful agony that swims through your naked veins…leave what you knew behind…

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Flashback Begins.

"The owner of the shop said it was from the Cayman Islands," she had exclaimed brightly, almost as bright as the sunshine from outside the car window blinding everything with understated radiance, seeping in and illuminating her shiny combed hair.

From the little white box she had hidden in her neat little designer purse, nestled in matching white cotton, laid a golden coin cut out in the middle to shape an unnamed bird perched on a tree branch. The bird itself coated with a silvery pearly glossing. His girlfriend beamed when he asked, nodding her head vigorously in her overexcitement, "The mineral is also from the Cayman Islands too."

It was a thoughtful gift for his twenty-third birthday. Kory obviously knew a lot about him if she knew what his coworkers had nicknamed him. Despite his downright abhor of the name.

Or it might have been a coincidence.

He was sticking with the former.

She liked beautiful things, he knew that much, and wore it on a necklace to make her happy. Her gesture had been appreciated, even guiltily when he failed to remember hers in August, and had securely brought her into a inviting embrace in hopes to erase the remorse with the combination of her sweet perfume and delightful body heat.

They could afford nice things, very nice things, since they both worked in a blossoming business. She worked hard doing what she loved, one of the fortunate persons in the business world, and with just enough time to play housewife while he hardly worked in a multimillion multinational cooperation he was training to run for his Father's sake. Sometimes he felt like he was just there to 'be pretty' so to speak. At times he became touchy when someone referred him as spoiled but it wouldn't be the first time someone accused him as such.

Most nights the couple wasn't home.

When they could spend time with each other— it was either trips to the countryside out of New York, there they housed together in a luxurious penthouse apartment. They would park one of those old-fashion 20's cars on top of a hilled road in some abandoned area to lie down in the spacious backseat, feeding each other spring strawberries, or playing in Central Park (the one time she convinced him to play along, pretending to be lost lovers reuniting in one of the most public places in the city. The best reaction they got was a random stunned reporter wanting to post their 'touching' story in The New York Times).

Right, he laughed to his girl later, like she really knew the New York Times.

It was simply common knowledge, an unspoken truth, that they were the perfect couple. So based on appearances— if there was something lurking underneath the exterior, it never showed overtly. At company balls, at company parties, they were voted best-looking couple "King and Queen of the Night".

'Richard Greyson' and 'Kory Anders' belonged together. And now, their title would reign as 'Mr. and Mrs. Greyson'.

Oh, the wedding was publicized all over the Eastern seaboard, hundreds knew, hundreds wanted to witness this famous union. Luckily the bride thought up of the idea of assembling special invitations so no one they didn't want there could sneak their way into and ruin the glorious event. The reporters and photographers would be barred, assured hired security.

In spite on this glamour and importance, what kind of people were they really?

For one Richard was a man with strong morals. Meaning he never wished for anything. He held a firm belief that wishing didn't get the job done.

Action did.

Dreaming for the attainable was worthless, a waste of energies. He had everything he wanted anyway, what more could he ask for than good friends, steady pay, and a gorgeous fiancée to come home to…whenever he could.(..?)

He didn't know anything outside of it and Richard was completely content with that.

Or so he thought.

Ever since he was a kid, there was something in his nature that was drawn to mystery. His childhood ambition had been to become the greatest detective there ever lived. Solving riddles and puzzles challenged him, and he liked challenges. Very much.

Kory couldn't exactly feed that, she couldn't stomp out that desire either. In truth, maybe he wasn't ready to commit. He loved her, yes, he was positive of his feelings for two years now, love was a word however. A feeling of attraction. Love was simple with her.

But in all honesty….who wanted simple?

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Devil in an indigo dress, her kisses full of peccadillo…every drop a sting…

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Somewhere on the other side of the world, fashioned with same elegance of worldly knowledge, she was there, downing a Black Russian made especially for her at the bar. Her next victim remained unawares of her objectives.

Blood-red lips slowly lifted at the corners as the cocktail glass brushed fondly between the two pillows of soft flesh.

With a swish of silky burgundy, she rose to her feet. The impression of her grace hypnotized the younger attractive men at the table over, their lovely black eyes roaming over her glitzy corset. Because she moved, her victim's companions attentions were swayed to her side of the room as well, she caught the glance of sparkling brown naivety, clandestinely exciting her cravings before the barman's gruff accent beckoned her.

"Sabine….there is a call for you."

With an elusive sigh, she whispered dully through her ritzy smile, "It can wait Gregory."

"It is a woman……she sounds urgent."

Thickly she swore in her native tongue, and crossed the bar-stand to brusquely seize the cord phone from his smooth pink hands. Blowing a long dyed strand out of her eye, she asked cordially in English, "Hello?"

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the other young men did occasionally, to see her tightened expression relax faintly. She lowered her voice to a murmur into the mouthpiece so no one else could hear her; seldom did her muffled voice rise to release a husky chuckle of amusement. After almost ten minutes, she let the receiver drop into the wall cradle. The dinner jacket barman questioned pryingly, "Who did you talk to?"

The silent woman swallowed the rest of her cocktail on the counter, chewing mutely on a small piece of ice on her way through the richly decorated exit. He cried out through the blue-tinged cigar smoke, "Sabine!"

She replied sweetly with her bare back to him, "I will call from America my friend."

TBC...