Disclaimer: Not owning DC Comics hasn't stopped me from writing fanfiction, so I don't think it matters now…
I also keep stealing the line "who benefits?" from Identity Crisis.
A/N: So perhaps you're wondering why I'm slowing down on the updates. One, it is in preparation for the time I must go back to school (when I will have no life other than schoolwork). Two, I've also been doing some line-editing on previous chapters. Just patching up some typos I found and unnecessary usage of the passive voice. Three, collaboration webcomic on my DeviantArt account!
"A death, any death, diminishes us. But when the one who dies is as young as Tara Markov, all humanity must cry. Life offers hope. And Tara Markov's life and abilities could have given the world so much hope. For she had so much to offer, so much to give. Tara Markov—ashes to ashes—dust to dust…"
-A priest. The Judas Contract
Chapter 12: Suspects
-BB-
This couldn't wait.
He flew to the outskirts of Jump City where Terra had taken him on his ill-fated date the night she betrayed them. The night was still young. He also felt as though he could never be of any help to the others. Even though he didn't want to admit it, Beast Boy felt like he wasn't an asset. What did he know of detective work?
Absolutely nothing.
However, that didn't mean that he couldn't learn. The idea that the intruder had taken more than just Slade's stuff took over Beast Boy's mind. It made sense that he would steal something else.
He transformed back into a human and leapt down in the near-empty parking lot of Ben's Burger joint. Beast Boy swung open the door and heard the faint tinkle of the cowbell hanging at the top of the door frame.
The place smelled like old people. It looked like a place for old people. This probably was a restaurant for old people. But Terra had obviously loved this place for some reason, maybe because it was a cutesy burger joint with pleasant people.
Beast Boy sat on one of the bar stools. An older woman with a giant beehive hairdo ambled up to him. The shocking pink color of the woman's hair seemed almost offensive.
"Pam, right?" Beast Boy asked, his voice hesitant.
The woman nodded silently. Beast Boy sat down and opened up the menu, his face twisting in disgust at the sight of so many meat-filled dishes. Even though Terra had respected his disinclination to eat meat Beast Boy had to grudgingly accept her inclination to be a carnivore.
"I'll have the apple pie," he said.
Pam wrote down the order and went into the back room, shouting orders to the cook. He swung around on the bar stool and ignored the other costumers, who were looking at him oddly. They probably weren't used to seeing a green-skinned kid come in here, especially in this part of town. Some of the older men playing pool stopped what they were doing to look at him.
Just like the first time he had been here, Beast Boy felt out-of-place. At least in Jump City the people were used to giant monsters and alien invaders hopping all over the place. He wished that he had a civilian identity to slip into. It would have made this meeting less awkward.
A few minutes later Pam came back with a plate of apple pie.
"This," Beast Boy said, his mouth still full of food, "is the greatest pie in the history of pie."
"What are you doing back here?" Pam asked. "Shouldn't you be in Jump fighting monsters or something?"
"You knew Terra," he said.
Her face fell at the mention of Terra. Some of the other regulars perked up at the mention of Terra.
"Not personally, but she was a good kid."
"So, you do know about—"
"Yes. I know that she died." She busied herself with cleaning the countertop. "It was all over the news."
Beast Boy's ears drooped. One of the problems with being a superhero was dealing with the media. People online talked about them. Columnists wrote about them. There were even TV talk shows dedicated to superhero gossip.
"I am truly sorry for the loss," Pam said. "I knew her as well. She didn't deserve to die so young."
No one deserves to die so young. This only put Beast Boy in a despondent mood. Even though one attended a lot of funerals in this line of work Beast Boy never thought he would attend the funeral of a fifteen-year-old girl.
It was just wrong.
Terra sacrificed her life, but if Slade hadn't gotten in the way then she would have had the chance to live out her life. If there was anything that Slade seemed to have understood was the potential and hope of the young generation.
"What did you know about her?" he asked. "Did she ever come back here after leaving the Titans?"
"Was that before or after she joined Slade?"
"Before she joined Slade."
After looking around Pam set down her notepad on the counter and spoke in a lowered voice.
"An older gentleman came in here," she said. "Not one of my regulars."
"Who?"
"How should I know?" Pam asked, shrugging. "He didn't say his name, but Terra seemed to know him. Somewhat."
"What did he look like?"
"Late forties, probably early fifties. White hair and a goatee, and what I remember most was that he had a glass eye." Pam paused, grimacing as she tried to remember. "I almost didn't notice it until he looked me straight in the face."
A one-eyed man…
Beast Boy's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. Slade had come to find Terra here and in his civilian identity no less. But why would Slade do that? He didn't even show Robin his identity. Why would…then it hit him. Terra followed Slade because she believed that Slade could give her wanted she needed: security, control…Slade could get her to trust him by revealing his secret identity.
"Did he have a name?"
"Terra didn't call him by his name."
Beast Boy tried to imagine the scene as he listened to Pam tell her story.
Terra sat hunched at the counter, slowly eating her way through her meal. Perhaps she felt sad because of Beast Boy's supposed babble to Robin about her inability to control her powers. Pam watched the young teenager from the other end of the room as she took another costumer's order.
Although Terra didn't talk much Pam knew from the papers that Terra had a run-in with the Teen Titans in Jump City. A villain named Slade had been involved somehow.
The cowbell tinkled.
She didn't pay much attention to the newcomer until he sat down next to her. Startled, she lifted her head and looked at the older man sitting next to her. She tensed. Even though she had never met him before Terra felt an odd vibe coming from him.
"Good evening, Terra," he said, glancing down at the menu, "I hope you have considered my offer."
Her fork clattered noisily on the plate. Terra moved as though to scramble away, her face fearful.
"Y—you're—"
"Yes, my dear."
She searched his face, as though hardly daring to believe that this was the man underneath the mask. Pam walked up to the counter and glared hard at Slade. Who was this man? He obviously made Terra uncomfortable. Should she, perhaps, call the police?
"Terra," Pam said, "who-?"
"It's…it's all right, Pam," Terra said in a reassuring voice. "I know him."
Pam didn't like Slade one bit. Perhaps it was the way he held himself: obviously ex-military, confident, and too polite to be real.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" she asked.
"A cup of coffee would be fine, Pam."
She didn't like the way he said her name. It was too informal…as though he had researched her before coming in. Pam wrote down his order and shuffled back into the kitchen. Her husband, who was one of the cooks, sidled over to her and looked at the odd pair at the counter.
"Who's he?"
"I don't know," Pam said. "But I don't like him."
Pam couldn't hear their conversation from the back room, but every so often she glanced in their direction. It seemed as though Terra's initial shock had calmed down considerably. When Pam came out with the coffee she caught a whiff of their conversation.
"But how can I be sure you know what you're doing?" Terra asked. "You don't have any powers."
"It is not a matter of power," Slade said. "It is a matter of the mind."
Pam set down the coffee mug on the countertop. The man seemed completely engrossed in the conversation.
"So, Terra, will you accept my help?"
Terra looked down at her plate, thinking. Slade held out a hand to her.
"Yes," she replied finally, "I will."
Beast Boy thought Pam's story over. Here, for the first time ever, was proof of Slade's real identity.
"Did you ever see him again?"
"No."
Would Slade have used his civilian identity? He must. Everyone had to once in a while, even the villains.
Who triggered the dust? If Slade did have something to do with the dust, then why would he want to drive Robin crazy? Was it because Slade felt uber-pissed that Robin got away? Would Slade ever kill Robin? Beast Boy had been present (and in pain) when Robin injected himself with the probes in front of Slade. Slade, for some reason known only to himself and to Robin, couldn't let Robin die.
And Terra?
Although Beast Boy didn't want to admit it, he thought that Slade would have let her die if she got in the way of his plans. Slade put more time and effort into entrapping Robin.
Robin admitted that he and Slade were alike—but he never got fully into that topic with the Titans. Slade just used Terra to hurt the Titans emotionally. Even if this information didn't help the Titans figure out who triggered the dust, it probably would help them reveal Slade's secret identity. At least that would make Robin feel better.
"Thanks," he said sadly, picking up his fork. "You have no idea how much that helped."
She nodded and went back to work.
This time he finished his pie.
-R-
For once, Robin did not feel like investigating this mystery.
He sat at his desk for a couple hours, staring at his notes blankly, before admitting defeat. Robin set Wintergreen's business card against his desk lamp and stared at the name Adeline Kane. If he couldn't think of anything or anyone he would give her a call tomorrow. Perhaps he should look her up first, though…
Robin placed his head on the desk and groaned, a newspaper clipping sticking to the side of his check. What annoyed him more? The fact that the perpetrator was playing with them like puppets? Or the fact that it was working? He looked at the clock. It was almost ten-thirty.
He decided to turn in early.
He set the piece of paper he found in the box on his bedside table. It was an old yellowed advertisement for the Flying Graysons. How had Slade gotten it? Robin didn't know and right now he didn't care.
He peeled off his mask, took off his cape, and leaned back on his bed. Robin placed his arms underneath his head and watched the overhead fan whirl.
Maybe Cyborg was right. Robin was too emotionally compromised to think clearly. But how could he let Slade go?
"The Flying Graysons…" he mumbled. "Wayne Enterprises…"
He closed his eyes. During his whole time with Slade there had been one experience he could never forget; the one experience Slade would never let him forget.
"Who knows?" Slade said, grabbing Robin's wrist and snapping the thermal blaster onto his wrist. "I might even become like a father to you."
Something snapped inside of Robin. He raised his head to glare at Slade, insulted by the remark. He backed away, his hands curling into fists. What on earth could make Slade say such a thing? Wasn't it enough for Slade to admit that he wanted an apprentice?
"I already have a father."
Robin allowed himself a bitter smile as he watched Slade stiffen at the comment. So far they had avoided the subject of the Dark Knight. As though on cue bats fluttered overhead towards the open sky window, reminding Robin vividly of Bruce's flying friends in the Bat-cave. His smile faded as Slade loomed over him.
"Do you mean Batman?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Hmm, Dick?"
Robin's eyes fell to the thermal blaster on his wrist. Without thinking he raised his hand to aim at Slade's face. Why not? He thought, he gave it to me in the first place. He wouldn't kill Slade—of course not—but he would hurt him just enough for Robin to get that controller.
Almost at once Slade knocked the blaster out of his face and raced forward, slamming his full weight against Robin's smaller body. There was nothing Robin could do to stop him. His heart raced as Slade's fist found his stomach.
Slade grabbed Robin's wrist and flung him against the wall. Robin twisted and struggled against Slade's grip, yelping in pain as Slade slapped him across the face. Despite himself, Robin burst into an uncharacteristic bought of laughter. Was Slade really that jealous of Batman? Who knew that Slade wanted a son so badly?
His laughter was cut short as Slade hit him again, sending him reeling back to reality. The man was pissed and so was Robin. Slade had him pinned to the wall by the wrists. Robin grimaced at the pain, now sure that his wrists were purple with bruises, but he held his own.
"Why Robin…"Slade said, his tone calm and amused. "That was a little dark for you. I'm impressed."
Robin was sick of Slade's mind games. Every time he raised a rebellious fist Slade became either pissed or pleased—sometimes both. Just because Robin fought back didn't mean that he was becoming more like Slade. In this line of profession, everyone had to fight dirty at one point or another. He drew his knees to his chest and attempted to kick Slade away.
"Shove off, Slade!"
Slade lifted him off the wall and slammed him against it. He squirmed in pain and forced himself not to yelp. Dick had now been with Slade long enough to realize that the villain wouldn't kill him. Slade didn't want an apprentice for the sake of passing down his talents. He wanted control, and he wouldn't get control from a dead apprentice. Slade let go of Robin's wrists and wrapped a hand around his neck, forcing Robin to look at him.
"You wouldn't talk to your father that way, would you?"
"I already have a father," Robin hissed, "and you. Are. Not. My. Father."
Sometimes it was just so hard to believe that Slade wouldn't kill him. That was the only reason why Robin dared himself to talk back and goad Slade. In moments like these Robin couldn't help but fear for his life.
"Do you mean Bruce?" Slade asked, leaning in close to Robin's face. "The dear old Bat?"
Robin suppressed a desire to spit in Slade's face. He hated the way Slade said Bruce's name in that mocking tone.
"Yes," Robin growled, "that is exactly who I am talking about."
So, was Slade scared of Batman? Even if he knew Bruce's identity Bruce could still kick Slade's butt. At least, Robin hoped so. A part of him wanted Batman to come to Jump City to save him from Slade, but another part of him didn't want Batman to get involved at all. Why? He didn't want Batman to save him again, but he also didn't want Slade to hurt Bruce.
Slade kneed him in the stomach and let him go. Robin crumpled to the floor and flinched as Slade kicked him in the ribs. He was already so tired from stealing the thermal blaster earlier that night, so tired from fighting Slade, and so tired of the villain's use of psychological warfare. Robin felt Slade's hand press down hard on the back of his neck.
"Don't ever do that to me again." Robin squirmed as Slade increased the pressure. "Is that clear?"
He wanted an answer. At first Robin thought that if he said nothing and did nothing, then Slade would eventually go tired of him. But Slade wouldn't let him do that. He wouldn't let Robin become impassive like one of his emotionless Sladebots. He always forced Robin to respond.
"Yes, sir," Robin replied weakly.
To his relief, Slade stood up and walked away. This time, Slade was lenient. Well, lenient compared to the other beatings. For a moment Robin did not get up from the floor. Frustrated and flustered from being beaten again, Robin just wanted this all to end.
"Would you like to know what your next mission is?"
No, Robin thought angrily, no I don't, Slade.
"I would like you to steal something for me," Slade said, pressing a button on a remote control. "A prototype from a company I am sure you are very familiar with."
The tall television screens changed from the footage of the Titans' bloodstreams to security footage. He didn't even have to see the outside of the building to know where it was. Even though this was only an auxiliary building on the other end of the United States it still had the same layout as its twin in Gotham City.
Wayne Enterprises.
"Slade…" Robin breathed, backing away.
His breathing became labored. Robin couldn't do this…not this…anything but this. He thought of what the others would say. What would Bruce say if he broke into Wayne Enterprises? Alfred? Lucius?
"What's the matter, apprentice?"
"I…I can't…anything but this…"
To his dismay he found his knees weakening. Why was he so afraid? Robin was so afraid of Slade terminating his friends yet also afraid of what Bruce would say. Did Slade mean to show him off like a prize dog? To taunt Batman? He gathered what little courage he had left and puffed out his chest.
"I won't do it."
Again, it was the wrong thing to say.
But Robin was determined to not go through with this. Slade had made that comment about "being like a father" just to flow naturally into the topic of Wayne Enterprises. Slade went to his desk, picked up something, and then strode back to Robin, handing him the paper.
It was an old newspaper clipping; an old advertisement for the Mr. Haley's circus. The most anticipated act of the night? Why, the spectacular Flying Graysons! Cold fear washed over him as he thought of Mr. Haley. What if threatening the Titans' lives wasn't enough? What if Slade felt that it was necessary to threaten Mr. Haley and the circus? Bruce? Alfred?
The eyeholes of his mask widened in shock as he looked at up Slade. For that brief moment he looked very much like a frightened child. Slade crossed his arms over his chest.
"Who was more of a father to you: John or Bruce?"
It was not only an unfair question, but also another emotional jab. Swallowing hard, Robin forced himself to answer.
"Don't bring my parents into thi—"
Slade cut him off.
"Answer my question."
Dad or Bruce…Dick stared at the floor. Both men meant everything to him. His father trained him to be an acrobat from birth. Bruce took him in after his parents died even when he didn't have to. Dick could have been shipped off to some random foster family in Gotham, but Bruce felt responsible because it had been his charity performance. And although Dick never called him father he had a close emotional bond with Bruce, mostly because his parents had also been killed by criminals. There was nothing of the sort between him and Slade.
"Both. They cannot be compared."
Slade tilted Robin's head upward.
"They abandoned you."
"My father did not abandon me!" Robin snarled. "Bruce did not abandon me!"
"Then why isn't he here now? If he cares so much about you then why did he not teach you to defend yourself properly?"
Robin longed to retreat to his sealed room just so he wouldn't hear any more of this. He hated everything about Slade. He hated how Slade controlled him and the Titans. He hated how he mocked Batman. He hated how Slade addressed him by a nickname only close friends called him. But he knew that Slade wanted him to hear this.
"You may consider the Bat your father, but I am the one who has control," Slade said, lifting the controller where Robin could see. "You will steal from Wayne Enterprises, Dick. You'll learn to let him go."
Robin was torn between a desire to rebel and a desire to save his friends' lives. Realizing that he couldn't persuade Slade out of this, Robin tried another tactic.
"Why are you making me do this?" Dick asked hotly. "Wayne Enterprises doesn't make weapons. Why should you be interested?"
"I'm well aware that Bruce Wayne doesn't allow his company to manufacture weapons. I'm also aware of Batman's no-gun policy." Dick could tell that Slade was smiling under the mask. "Besides, I thought you two had a falling out."
"That doesn't mean that I still don't think of him as my father."
Was that what Slade was counting on? The fact that Batman and Robin were no longer the Dynamic Duo might have caused Slade to look upon Robin with more interest. Did Slade hope to wedge himself between them and widen the crack in their relationship? Something told Robin that he did.
"Batman held you back. If he trained you to help you protect yourself, then you wouldn't be here now. You have the ability and the potential to beat me, but Batman did no teach you correctly. The Titans are also holding you back. If you cannot learn to take a life then you can never hope to defeat me."
"You're psychotic."
"I have much to teach you," Slade replied, his tone dangerous. "You'll thank me for this later."
"Say that again when I see you in court."
That threw Slade over the edge. Slade hit him again.
And again.
And again.
You know, Robin thought bitterly, if he didn't act upon his sadistic impulses so often I would believe him. This time, however, the beating didn't last as long as Robin expected. After about a minute Slade glanced at the clock.
"It's almost time." Slade turned towards Robin. "So, Dick, will you steal the prototype for me from Wayne Enterprises?"
It wasn't a question, really. Robin rubbed his aching jaw and glared at him.
"I suppose I have no choice."
Slade shot him a warning glare. What else did Slade want from him? Did the man expect Robin to give him respect? If so, Slade had serious emotional issues himself.
"Yes, I will." Dick gulped. "I will…Master."
Oh how he hated that word. If Slade truly wanted Robin to see him as a father then he wouldn't force Robin to use such language.
"Good boy."
Dick's upper lip twitched as Slade ruffled his hair. If there was anything he hated more than Slade holding him captive, more than Slade holding the Titans' lives in his hand, then it would have to be that mild streak of fatherly affection Slade had for him. That surprisingly intimate yet patronizing gesture only poured salt in his wounded pride, and Slade knew it.
He didn't even let Bruce ruffle his hair.
As Slade turned his back to him Dick crouched to the ground and grabbed a fistful of hair in each hand, mentally cursing himself for acquiescing to this unspeakable demand. He shut his eyes tightly. If he never got out of this situation then he would never see Bruce or Alfred again. He could never apologize for the countless and bitter arguments. He could never have the chance to apologize for storming out on him and moving to Jump City, where this…apprenticeship…waited for him.
"I'm sorry, Bruce," he mouthed, not daring to say the words out loud, "for everything."
Bats flew overhead.
Robin found himself holding his breath. What could he do to stop the nightmares? He thought briefly of taking a sleeping pill to knock himself out in a dreamless sleep, but he couldn't do that forever. Eventually he would have to face the nightmares again.
Even in death Slade haunted him still.
What was it about his apprenticeship that scared him so much? The Titans didn't understand what he had gone through. Slade forced Robin to steal from his father—or rather, his adopted father.
He rolled to his side and closed his eyes, beginning to feel drowsy.
Maybe he should call Bruce again and apologize. Bruce would want to know that Slade knew his identity. Besides, the man was dead. It wouldn't hurt to tell him. What was so hard about that? Maybe he should visit Gotham and tell him face-to-face. Maybe he should go visit Mr. Haley's circus and see his childhood friends again.
Too much uncertainty.
Robin curled into a ball and buried his face into his bed sheets, comforted by the smell and warmth of his bed. Sometimes it just felt nice to feel safe, curled up in the warmth and safety of his own bed. It was the comfort of old habits. Everyday he would wake up in his own bed in his own home of his own choosing. It was a bitter shock to wake up dazed and confused in that sealed room as the prisoner of a criminal mastermind.
He understood the risks involved with his profession. But as the protégée of Batman he always assumed that such kidnappings happened to other people. He was the one who saved people. He was the one who rescued children from kidnappings and burning homes. Even though he knew he couldn't save everyone he could at least save some.
Robin just couldn't save himself.
-C-
It was getting late.
Cyborg suppressed a yawn as he walked into the main room, intending to get a late-night snack before going to bed. He spent the last few hours upgrading the security to Titans Tower…again.
"Miserable little snot…" he mumbled under his breath.
He was, of course, referencing Red X. At last the invader before had the decency not to shove it in their faces. Cyborg didn't know why Robin trusted Red X so much. True, it seemed as though the information Red X gave Robin was valid. There was just no telling when the guy would turn on them.
"Azarath Metrion Zinthos…Azarath Metrion Zinthos…"
He straightened at the sound of Raven's voice. What was she doing still up? Cyborg grabbed a half-eaten ham sandwich from the fridge and stuffed it in his mouth.
The milky-white light of the gibbous moon shone down on the empath, who was hovering before the window. She was meditating. Cyborg chewed the sandwich and swallowed. She normally meditated at specific times of the day. Even though Cyborg didn't know her as well as he would like to he knew that if she was meditating this late at night then something must be wrong.
"Raven…"
He really didn't want to bother her, but something told him that he should. She stopped mid-chant and turned her head slightly to look at him.
"What?"
"Do you know what time it is?"
"I am perfectly aware of the time."
She stood up and drew her hood back over her head. Raven pulled her cloak more tightly around herself.
"Is something wrong?"
Raven stopped near the kitchen counter.
"I feel everyone's emotions. Right now the others are drowning in their emotions. I try to do everything that I can to alleviate the pain, but I can only do so much."
So she was trying to absorb everyone's emotions? That would make anyone grumpy. Cyborg placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You don't have to do that."
"I—"
Her reply was cut-off as the television screen turned on. Someone was calling them.
"This is the Jump City Police Department calling Titans Tower."
Cyborg and Raven turned to look at the caller. The Chief of Police Jeff Johnson stood in front of the webcam, looking just as tired as Cyborg felt.
"Sorry that we called so late, but I felt as though this couldn't wait. Is Robin around?"
"Robin's asleep," Raven said.
"He is?" Cyborg asked, confused. "But it's only eleven."
"If you want, we'll call back in the morning—"
"No, it's fine. Why are you calling?"
"We have a suspect in custody who we believe is connected to the vandalism," the Chief of Police said. "He was just brought in."
Raven and Cyborg exchanged startled glances.
"We'll come," Cyborg said. "We'll be there in ten minutes."
Cyborg turned off the television, hardly daring to believe their luck. Last night the police couldn't find anything to help them. After they were done Cyborg scanned the area himself and found nothing. It was odd to not even have a fingerprint and now…a suspect?
"I'll go wake the others—"
"No." Raven's voice was firm and final. "We should not."
"Why not?"
"What if this is another trap?"
"Rae, it's the police station. What could happen?"
"Anything."
Well, considering the events of the past few days…
"Besides," Raven said, "the others are emotionally compromised."
"Sometimes I feel as though we're the only sane ones on this team," Cyborg said. "Come on, I'll get the T-Car."
Ten minutes later…
"Where's the rest of the team?" The chief of Police asked.
"It's late. We've been working hard all day."
"Of course," Johnson said, nodding. "I'll take you to the suspect."
John led them to the interrogation room, but stopped just outside of the door. Cyborg looked through the two-way mirror and saw the supposed vandal. A man in his mid-twenties gazed back at him. To be perfectly honest, Cyborg was surprised by the man's appearance. He was well-dressed and well-groomed, looking more like an intern for a stockbroker on Wall Street than a vandal.
"Uh…are you sure this is him?" Cyborg asked. "Or are you getting him confused with the guy being held for insider trading?"
No one laughed.
"To be frank, he was left outside the station hogtied and unconscious," Johnson replied. "This was pinned to his shirt."
The Chief of Police handed him a piece of paper. Cyborg looked at the piece of paper. There was nothing on it except for an "X" written in red ink.
"Does that mean anything to you?"
"Yeah," Cyborg said. "How did you know he is connected to Terra?"
"The kid has a criminal record, although we've been having trouble tracking him down. His name is Mark Wolfman, but we have good reason to believe that that name is an alias." Johnson shrugged. "There was a receipt in his wallet for a couple bottles of the same shaving cream used and for a bottle of spray-paint."
"Looks like Red X left us a present," Cyborg said. "But why, though?"
This seemed suspicious. For all the Titans knew, Red X could have been the one who triggered the dust. And if he wasn't the one who triggered the dust, then Cyborg could be sure that Red X expected to benefit from this.
"Let's just see if Wolfman knows anything," Raven said. "That's the most important thing."
They nodded to one of the policemen, who unlocked the door for them. The vandal looked up in interest as the two Titans stepped into the room.
"Mark Wolfman," Cyborg said.
"That's my name."
The vandal leaned back in his chair and smiled. Already Cyborg disliked him.
"Why did Red X bring you in?" he asked.
"That loon? Owed him some money, but the freak couldn't wait. Knocked me out. Next thing I know I'm here and being interrogated by you losers."
"We don't have time for this," Raven said. "Cyborg, I'm going to scare him."
Would Robin approve of this? In this desperate situation, yes he probably would. Cyborg felt himself shiver as Raven released her inner demon. Black tendrils of smoke curled out from underneath her hood and snaked towards Wolfman.
Wolfman's face grew pale as his eyes bulged at whatever horror was underneath Raven's hood. His cuffed hands clutched the edge of the table and his knuckles turned white. Although everyone else—including Raven—disapproved of this technique it sometimes had to be done.
"So," Cyborg said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you gonna talk?"
They waited for the vandal to speak. He hunched over in his seat and stared blankly into space, just like Dr. Light's reaction. After a moment he lifted his head.
"What do you want to know?"
"Who are you?" Cyborg asked.
"I'm a graduate of the HIVE Academy."
"You? A graduate of the HIVE Academy?" Cyborg asked. "I'll be sure to look you up in their records."
"Yes, although I graduated under the rule of the previous Head Mistress. I don't work for Brother Blood, which is why I'm broke and accepted the contract to hurt the green kid. I studied to become a criminal mastermind myself and not to become the lackey of others."
"But you still accepted the contract." Cyborg felt little pity for Wolfman. "And as for your plan to become a criminal mastermind…I'm afraid that you'll have to figure that out in jail."
Wolfman pale face flushed with anger. Cyborg's eyes narrowed. How could he be sure that Wolfman wasn't under Brother Blood's control now? From personal experience, Cyborg knew that there was no way he could be sure.
"Hey man," Wolfman said, leaning back and holding up his hands. "I'm just doing my job."
"Who paid you to do this?"
"You think that he would give me his real name?" Wolfman asked. "I know nothing about my employer. All I know about the other agents is that they will act upon the signal. I was told to act when Bird-Boy didn't show up with the Titans."
"What is the next signal?"
"Probably Terra's vandalized tomb," Raven said. "When will the next agent strike?"
"I don't know. But perhaps if you pay my bail—"
Cyborg grasped the vandal by the collar and growled in his face.
"You're lucky Robin isn't here to interrogate," he said. "You know how people roll in Gotham."
"I'm not scared of the Gothamites," Wolfman sneered. "Not even Batman."
"Then you're a fool," Raven said, "for thinking so."
Cyborg nodded. This guy was cocky. Jump City was tame compared to Gotham City. Having been trained at the HIVE Academy himself, Cyborg knew that it would take more than elaborate obstacle courses and robots to take on the Batman.
"Okay, I honestly know nothing about what's going to happen," Wolfman said, "bail or no bail."
"So why did you vandalize Terra's tomb?" Cyborg asked.
"The guy was going to pay me a thousand bucks to do it," he replied, shrugging. "It was an easy job."
"How come the police couldn't find anything?"
"I was taught how to rob a bank properly, not like those recent grads Slade sent after you. That's one of the things the Headmistress taught us," he said, "subtly. Refinement. Those of us who don't have powers learned other things."
"This is getting nowhere," Raven said, pulling down her hood again. "We need information n—"
"Wait—don't!" Wolfman squeaked. "I don't know what's going to happen next or who the other agents are, but you'll know by early tomorrow morning."
"That's not good enough!" Cyborg snapped.
"You can't prepare yourselves," Wolfman said. "Whatever is going to happen will come completely out of the blue."
For the first time in days Cyborg felt truly afraid. What if he was attacked next? What if the attacker bombed Star labs or attacked his grandparents or bombed the school he volunteered at for handicapped kids? Whoever was doing this to them had this all planned out like a grand master.
"Either one of you could be attacked or…" Wolfman allowed himself a smile. "Perhaps the pretty Tamaranean."
End of Part 2
A/N: Hmm…
Okay, am I the only one who wants to know what Slade's reaction was to the "I already have a father" comment? The episode panned away to bats then to the Titans, so we never know what happens immediately after. My theory is that Slade got pissed and made Robin steal from Wayne Enterprises. That flashback was an idea for an oneshot called "Bats" (that's why it was so friggin' long)…but it fit nicely in here.
I'm glad I took a little longer to write this chapter. I really needed the extra time to write. I found Cyborg's POV to be a little hard to write.
Are the flashbacks getting too annoying? They do have a point, but as I look back I realize that I have a lot. I love writing about the apprentice episodes WAY too much. I had way too much fun writing that flashback.
I'm also trying something new with BB's POV: not a flashback, but him imagining Terra's encounter with Slade. How is that working out?
Hope you don't mind the OC character Wolfman. It sort of had to be done.
REVIEW!
P.S If you lovely people open your inbox on Sunday morning, expecting your weekly chapter update, and do not see a chapter update, feel totally free to PM me and be like, "WTF aessedai343? YOU MISSED YOUR DEADLINE!" But yeah, I turned this in a day early because I have to work tomorrow.