(A/N: Wow, wow, wow. Got a load of new reviews and some alerts, too! Didn't realize this story was more than a time-waster on my part... Anyways, I want to thank all of you who reviewed the story and kept with it. You're all important, and every single review is duly noted, trust me. I appreciate the urgings and the positive feedback, especially since I thought no one liked the story much. But regardless, I'll repeat the usual:

I do not own DC comics or any characters located therein.

On with the show!)

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Gotham has a notoriety that goes beyond tall tales or urban legends. The city itself seems to carry an ominous threat of painful death for any denizens who decide that they're going to live another day in the home of the World's Greatest Detective. In the day, the local power plants pollute the air so heavily that the sky itself seems to turn a light shade of red, and at night, even the thick, muggy air remains. During one of these nights, it is not so uncommon to see crime of any sort take place. It is peculiar, however, to see a slumped, battered, and bleeding young man limping through one of the city's many back alleys, leaving a tread of red drops in his wake. Leaning heavily against the dirty brick wall, a green-skinned youth clutched his chest and collapsed to his knees, hacking up a green, viscous liquid from his chest. Eyes widening at the strange fluid, he touched it with his fingers and lifted it to his nose.

"What... What is this?" He cringed, wiping it on the wall behind him and standing back to his feet. Confusion assaulted every corner of his mind, and he desperately grabbed at anything in his memories that might hold a clue as to his whereabouts.

"I'm in Gotham." He said to himself, nodding slowly. "The Joker... and the Other." Gar clutched his head as a fresh memory entered his mindscape. He saw the other Titans in various positions of attack, then his vision flashed and they were all badly hurt. He watched his own claws do the deed, and he shuddered in spite of himself.

"NO! I'd never do that! They're my friends!"

"HA!" A voice echoed throughout the alley. "You thought they were your friends. But what has their friendship ever given you? Remember Terra, Garfield?"

Her beautiful blue eyes were brimming with tears and gazing at him from the other side of the cavern; red jets of molten lava spewed around them and as he felt the ground beneath him give way, her hand stretched out to him and her mouth opened in a silent goodbye...

"Yes." He croaked, covering his own face.

"They took her from you, you know." The voice taunted him. If Gar could see the speaker, he was confident he would be wearing a smirk. "They hated her so much that they couldn't bear risking their lives to save her. And who could blame them? She was a traitor, after all."

Angry tears welled up in Garfield's own eyes now, and he raised his head and stood firmly in place. "She wasn't beyond saving! She was my friend. I thought I... I thought I-"

"Loved her?" Wild, jeering laughter came from the shadows at the proposition. "What good is 'love' when the ones who are supposed to be your friends effectively KILL the people you love so much, Garfield?"

"They did everything they could!" Gar replied in fury. "They would never just let someone die!"

"Oh?" That sickeningly sarcastic voice replied in fake innocence. "Then tell me, dear Garfield, exactly what the Titans were doing after Slade's defeat."

"They were trying to escape the cave with their lives!" He shouted, forming his hands into fists.

"Riiight. So enlighten me yet again. Why did Raven not use her powers to stop Terra's own? You know she easily could have. After all, the only thing that needed to happen was for the girl to be knocked unconscious, and her abilities would shut off. Or am I to understand that someone can actually use their powers while not awake?"

Slowly, against Gar's own judgment, he began to realize that what the voice in his head was saying was true. The team had elected not to save his friend all that time ago. They had a choice, and they had chosen themselves above Terra.

"I will, to the best of my abilities, fight to protect and preserve sentient life, no matter the cost to myself." Garfield muttered under his breath.

"The Titan credo? How foolish."

"They broke their promise..." He whispered. "They betrayed my trust. They let her die. Terra..."

"Yes, Garfield. The Titans let your friend sacrifice herself so they could continue to sit around in their tower being so annoyingly holier-than-thou. They allowed her to die, just for comfort's sake. And there isn't a thing you can do about it."

Garfield flexed his hand, stared a hole through his palm. His brow furrowed and he growled, swinging his hand out beside him and hitting the wall. Large chunks of brick and mortar exploded away from his fist, sending a dust cloud billowing into the small, cramped alley.

"You and the Titans... You're wrong." He snarled, removing his hand from the rubble and gazing at it while his fingers morphed into talons. "Dead wrong."

Back at Wayne Manor, the recovering young heroes were standing around the fireplace which, according to Alfred, led to the Batcave. Bruce had gathered them all to the hearth and was lecturing them on how dangerous Gotham could be. Robin was having none of it, and quickly took charge of his restless friends again.

"Alright, team, here's the situation. Beast Boy's mental state is rapidly deteriorating, and unless we can catch him soon, this... secondary personality may take over indefinitely."

Cyborg's face hardened at this, and Raven even flinched. Starfire was barely holding it together, but a reassuring hand on her shoulder made her look up into the red, cybernetic eye of the oldest Titan. Giving her a reassuring pat, he turned again to their leader.

"Look man," Cy started, "BB's not himself. We're gonna have to fight him, I just know it. I don't know if I can hit him... Just seems wrong, ya know?"

Robin nodded, but his seriousness didn't fade in the slightest. "I know, Cyborg. Be that as it may, Beast Boy is too dangerous to risk not engaging. We can't go easy on him, you know that. Look at yourself."

Cy looked down and ran his hand across the dent in his chest panel. Starfire worked to get her emotions in check and cleared her throat.

"Friends, our teammate is severely hurt and confused. He needs us, and we need him."

Raven nodded. "She's right. Gar- I mean- Beast Boy, you can't blame him for what he did. We can't risk his life by taking him on full force. Even if he's strong enough to overpower us, we can't endanger his mind. There's no telling what he's thinking right now."

Reluctantly, Robin nodded. "You're right, Raven. We need to get him back without hurting him. With the four of us, it shouldn't be too hard."

At this, Bruce stepped forward and stared Robin in the eyes. "Look, Richard. You're not going to run through my city like you do in Jump. This isn't a place for children."

Cyborg scoffed and planted his finger on Bruce's chest. "You need to get your head outta the clouds, man. We're going after BB, and you can't stop us."

"But-" He started, but was interrupted by Robin again.

"No, Bruce. He's right. There's too much at stake here."

Brice sighed and after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Fine. But take my advice. If any of the Rogue Gallery comes around, run or call me. They're out of your league."

Robin shook Bruce's hand and gestured for his team to leave ASAP. As they rushed from the manor, Alfred reentered the den holding a tray of tea and sighed heavily.

"They left... I didn't even get a chance to serve the Earl Grey."

In a darkened warehouse, a figure sat slumped in an oversized, high-backed armchair that was positioned on a raised platform overlooking the floor ten feet below. The shadow sitting on the chair leaned heavily on one arm while a large, fat, balding man stood quivering in the dim overhead lighting. The figure readjusted itself and leaned forward in the throne-like chair until the eyes were barely visible beyond the veil of darkness.

"What do you mean, you didn't get the money?"

The fat man flinched and shifted on his feet. "Well, uh... Ya see, we were gonna hit the place, but..."

"But...?" The voice of the shadow repeated in irritation, gaining intensity.

"B-but the League showed up and busted our heist. We didn't get that thing you wanted."

The figure's hand lashed out and the fat man crumpled to the floor, bleeding profusely out of his forehead. Right between his eyes, a bladed poker card with an image of a court jester beeped and exploded, sending remains of the lackey across the floor. The shadow stood from his "throne" and descended into the light.

"Clean this mess up," the Joker barked, brandishing more playing cards. Other henchman quickly stepped forward in tandem and began to mop the floor and remove the pieces of their old friend.

"I swear, you just can't find good help these days..." Joker sighed with a melodramatic air.

From her spot near the throne, Harlequin approached her boss's side and awaited her instructions and possible beating. "What can I do for ya, Mista' J?"

Growling, Joker turned on her and rolled his eyes. "What you can do is find me someone who isn't completely incompetent and able to do a simple task, that's what, Harley!"

"Sorry, boss. Didn't know you'd get so riled up over that fancy thingamajig."

Joker slapped Harlequin with impunity and sneered. "That 'thingamajig' is our key to beating Batsy, so hop to it, Harley. You're making me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"O' course, Mista' J!" Harley grinned, completely undeterred by the physical abuse. "Now that you got the syndicate under your thumb, who are ya gonna send out?"

Joker's grin widened and he chuckled darkly. "Harley, do you remember that green boy from earlier?"

She nodded grimly, her smile slipping for just a fraction of a second. "Sure do. What about him?"

"Do you know who he is?" The atmosphere darkened, and Harlequin shook her head. "Not a clue. You?"

Joker nodded and his lip curled. "Our... mutual friend has sent me notice that the lad was actually a teammate of the Boy Blunder!"

Harley's face stretched to its limits as an eager grin came across her features. "What are ya thinking, Mista' J?"

Beginning to pace back and forth through the room, Joker's hand flew to his chin every once-in-a-while when he became entrenched in his own thoughts. After almost four minutes of silence with Harley bursting at the seams, the Clown Prince stopped and smiled at her.

"If the greenbean knew Robbykins, then that means that since the runt is dead, Robin will come running along to see what happened. And since he's in Gotham, he'll meet up with the Bat! Batsy will no doubt warn the boy of the danger- I always knew the Dark Blight was too fatherly for the boy's own good- and Robin won't listen. He'll look for me, wanting revenge or justice or whatever it is heroes want..."

"So? What's the plan?"

Glaring up at her, he slapped her again. "Don't interrupt me while I'm thinking Harley! Can't rush genius."

Rubbing her sore cheek, Harlequin nodded enthusiastically. "Right. Sorry, boss."

Waving her apology away, the Joker stared at the floor and then snapped his fingers.

"That's it, Harley! I've got it! If Robbypoo wants to find us, then we'll let him! Leave clues behind so he doesn't get TOO suspicious, he's too clever for us to just tell him where we are. He'll know it's a trap. But if we lead him on a goose chase, he'll track us down thinking he's being soooo smart and that he'll finally catch me when BANG! One of the Batclan down, only three to go."

Clapping, Harley grinned at the madman's plot and the Joker bowed like a master thespian. "Thank you, thank you. You're too kind!"

"You're a bonafide mastermind, Mista' J!"

"Yes, I suppose I am." He nodded, smirking as another unpleasant thought came to him. "But if the green one's dead, then Batsy will have a team help the red-clad lad... And as magnificent as I am, I don't know who he's bringing. A hero went kaput. He might even call in the Boy Scout! Damn... I was close, too. If I want Robin dead, then I'll have to find help of my own. My ace in the hole."

At that moment, the door to the warehouse burst open and Joker whirled around with a humongous pistol drawn. Training it on a massive shadow beyond the light, he started to squeeze the trigger when the form vanished from view.

"What the-?"

"Where'd it go, Mista' J?"

Joker scanned the room looking for signs of the intruder and strained his ears to listen, but nothing came to him. From the other side of the room, he felt a nagging sense of being watched and turned back to his throne. Sitting there in his chair was someone with burning green eyes and those eyes were currently drilling holes through him.

The infamous killer clown put his gun away; if the newcomer had wanted to attack him, he already would have when he had the drop. "Who are you and what do you want? I've got things to do, so if you don't mind getting a move on, that would be marvelous." He drawled.

"I want to make a deal." The shadow replied. "I understand that you want Robin dead. I can help you with that."

"Doesn't answer my question. You've already gotten my attention, and since you're so willing to help, I'll hire you. But I want to know one thing. WHO. ARE. YOU?"

"Me?" Chuckling, a sneering Garfield Logan emerged from the shadows but remained a good distance from the Joker with his hands folded behind his back. "Call me your ace in the hole."