Chapter Number: Three
Rating: T
Date/Takes Place: Roughly twelve hours after Chapter Two.
Anything Else: N/A
Author's Note: I know there's not very many, but thanks to all of you for the favorites and followers. It means a lot, and I do have quite a bit of views on the actual story, so that's cool. ^-^ I'd also like to say that, after planning several chapter ahead, I've decided the OC I mentioned in the Prologue will no longer exist. The story will run smoother with an actual canon character, but I shouldn't have to change anything important. I would edit the Prologue (replace the chapter), but recently my computer has been doing some funny things, so I won't be able to, which is why I've mentioned it here. (Also, off-topic, a thank you to the Guest that reviewed the previous chapter!)

Anywho, here's Chapter Three from a way slow update. Enjoy!

If the Brain were to be asked, he would say he could not hear. Not a sound.

Language was detected, then processed and transmitted through tiny microphones hidden near the base of his glowing lectern, from there sent through the auditory nerve to his . . . well, Brain.

But sounds — noises incapable of being fathomed into words — were something his system admittedly could not decipher, no matter how intensely advanced. Creating such technology was proven exceptionally difficult. Even for him. When he wanted to speak, all the Brain need do was imagine the words exceptionally clear within his mind, and from there all his little wires and systems would produce a computer-generated gritty voice to his every syllable. Thoughts would become fragments of segmented speech; cables in places he could picture vividly in his mind snapping to activation.

All of this happened at once. All of this happened under three fractions of a second.

And yet still, with such a quantity of technology right under his thumbnail, any sounds other than a detectable language were parts of choppy gibberish the Brain could simply not hear; and so he didn't rely quite so much on that sense. Albeit, truth to be told, he didn't rely quite so much on any of the five senses. His mind was all he needed — all he was. When absolutely nothing accommodates your life other than a disembodied human brain and thin pane of clean glass do you have such an abundant amount of time to think.

The point of the matter was the Brian could not hear. And so when persons were within his threshold of presence he would remain without knowledge until the individual spoke.

. . . There was, however, one exception to this. The man — or, rather, beast of a man — had dubbed himself Monsieur Mallah sometime before their meeting. And though the Brain could offer you no explanation himself, when Mallah was near, something within him stirred, and immediately he knew. As if a buzzer had set itself off when the gorilla approached.

And when the glossy set of photographs were revealed and set across the surface before him, that same urging nag instilled inside his being.

Even so, the Brain was considerably pleased.

He'd worked for a straight three hours' time. Countlessly, he had examined systems and wires. He'd read an infinite number of fragmented code. Gizmo had even reached the point of scanning for any imperfections in the base security system.

And yet still — n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

Jinx, however, "zealous" as she was, couldn't find it in her heart to complain.

The poor lad had burnt himself to the core under fear of the hex witch's impending rage; working restlessly to understand exactly what had happened only hours earlier.

The events, for whatever reason, were still fuzzy the way she pictured them — choppy, somehow, like a screen flickering out for minutes at a time during a movie. Recollections were difficult to place together, and words nearly impossible to clutch. Only one single discovery stood out amongst the rest, perhaps the only one she remembered quite well;

A call had been tracked.

A video call from a momentarily unknown party had traced their location using extremely advanced equipment, according to Gizmo. Advanced enough that the genius was incapable of determining who it was that sent the previous call — the task was quite possibly impossible, even, no matter how hard he tried. Nevertheless, Gizmo did try. For a straight three hours' time.

So who could really blame him?

The mass of Jinx's thoughts were an absolute train wreck; her initial concern had been the suspicion that it had been the Titans who had tracked them. Besides that, she couldn't help but wonder who in the world the Hive had angered that didn't already know their location. Whoever they were, Jinx felt regrettably certain her team would ultimately be unable to take them down. If they'd been able to outsmart even Gizmo, surely the task would prove difficult.

An apprehensive Jinx sighed. She would refuse to show even the slightest sign of how much of a mess she truly was. For now, at least, she would have to remain calm —

And continue to push the nagging but realistic voice telling her the last person they had received a call from was the Brotherhood.