Volte-Face

Anyone who loves Jamie Campbell Bower… Well, I'm sorry, but he's mine. -rawr-

Thank you…
BipolarPenguins- I should stop listing you on here... (I already told you that I was telling you that... Whoa...)
theKRITIC- Um, okay, Edward is better. xD But I feel sorry for Jacob, and I like him because he (unlike Edward) knows what he wants, and goes for it... But I actually like the other Cullen/Hale boys better... Huh...
FREAKSHOW1- Also like a drunken house plant, I crack up whenever you review. So odd, yet so funny. xD
APurpleAvacado- You were right the first time, Slade's a bit homophobic... That actually shows up in this chapter, speaking of Sladeypants. (Of course, the whole Slade-stalking-Robin thing doesn't count as being gay, because it's a hatred-obsession... -rolls eyes- ...which he should just keep telling himself. It ain't just a river in Egypt, folks!) Hopefully this hurts your brain less.
Xment2bursX- Oh I know, Slade is basically Robin's fangirl. (And "endearing" is his middle name... xD)
Dancing through the Storm- I think, during Eclipse, I hated them all-- Bella, Edward and Jacob. They were all very "I'm complicated, no one understands me!"... And yes, Garthy is getting frustrated. (Pun intended? I don't know...)
Insect-Queen- I like the movie-Bella, but the movie-Edward (Cedric?!) isn't handsome. He'll look great when he's thirty, but he hasn't grown into his face yet... Hm...
Sugar-Hype-Queen- Indeed, that was the thirteenth chapter. And this is the fourteenth chapter... It does seem like it's been fast.
GabbyAndHerEnigmas
SaoirseWaveglow- Don't worry, the Robin/Raven thing isn't exactly so obnoxious that you get hit in the face with it. It's subtle, and if you think about it in relation to everything else that happens with Raven, it explains her decisions... (I'm being vague on purpose. xD Is it working?)
Cu Sith
Nyleva
Fake Is the New Real- Thanks! Welcome aboard the SpAqua train!
gsgerth

Just as I recommended "Gattaca" (for anyone reading AMO), now I shall suggest a book by Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray. Once you get past the first page, the witty banter is very clever, and the writing isn't too old-English to sift through. I highly recommend it, for those who haven't read/heard of it. (And then go watch The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, simply because that Dorian is too smoldering for words.)

("What are you?!" "…I'm complicated.")

And here we go!

"The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding."
—Albert Camus

The only light shining from the Wilson manor came from the third floor, a secluded office far from the main staircase in which file cabinets lined each wall. There was a tiny desk in the middle of the claustrophobic room, a silver one that was barely big enough to hold the papers and files spread across it.

Slade Wilson stood looming over the desk, hands clasped behind his back as his eyes scanned each page for something that he knew wasn't there. The chair he had been sitting in was in the corner, pinned between two cabinets, tipped over where he kicked it. A dent the size of his steel-toed boot fractured the back of the chair in two.

The door behind him opened slowly and an old man peeked his head in. "Sir," he said slowly, "are you aware that your police files are being hacked into?"

Slade turned his face to the door. "Hacked by whom?"

"The Titans, Sir." Wintergreen shifted and shook his head. "By Robin. He's conducting a mass search of every database for various queries."

"Robin," Slade repeated. The name was stale on his tongue, bringing to his mind a strange mix of anger and concern. "Can you access the other queries?"

Wintergreen extended a paper to the man, nodding at it. "Those are the queries of his search from the past 48 hours."

Slade stared at the list, amused at the first few queries. Trivial things like new combat gear or jewelry—presumably for a teammate's birthday—were at the top of the page, but as of about one o'clock in the afternoon, Robin had begun to worry about something.

What caught his eye wasn't the searches involving himself—after all, Robin had been running his name through the databases for years without success—but rather the searches involving his past's connections with a teammate named Roy Harper.

"Bring me the profile of Mr. Harper," Slade ordered, still reading down the list. Wintergreen hurried out the door, but he hardly noticed; the queries were changing from past events to more interesting things, drugs like heroin, names of rehabilitants in nearby clinics and a woman in a mask named Cheshire.

What are you looking for… Slade pursed his lips and read over the list again. Another word, one he'd missed the first time, caught his eye: the word 'gun,' paired with his name. An FBI record on his past machinery seemed to be the only match for the query, and yet it worried him. There was no reason for the Titans to be searching for his weaponry now, after months of inactivity. And this Harper boy who had nothing to do with him, and the drugs…

Slade looked up as Wintergreen entered again, this time with a thick file in hand.

"What are you planning, sir?"

Slade shook his head slightly and felt the corners of his lips curve up when he saw the half-inch of blue criminal record forms sitting in the middle of the file. He raised his gaze to his assistant and nodded. "You'll be the first to know."

xXx

Robin winced as the door slid open, letting too much light into his dim office. Squinting against the brightness, he recognized Raven and beckoned for her to come in.

"Find anything?" she asked, picking up one of the many papers scattered over his desk. It was the profile of an asylum an hour northwest of Steel City. "Did he…?" She raised the paper so that Robin could see it, and he shook his head quickly.

"Speedy never stayed there," he said, "although he had ties to a woman by the name of Marie Olivette who ran the place until she was admitted herself. The story's murky but irrelevant anyway."

"What kind of ties?" She raised a curious brow, idly choosing a new piece of paper from the pile to read over.

"Nothing that would solve our problem; he was listed as a witness in a police report for a minor accide—"

"What is this?" Raven shoved the paper toward Robin, unable to mask her horror. "Is that one of his tox screens?"

"From a few years ago, yeah." He looked at her. "Why?"

She stared in confusion. "Can't you read those numbers? He was taken to the ER for convulsions, because not only was he way past the legal limit for alcohol—not that he was legally allowed to drink anyway—but because he had opiates in his system! He overdosed on heroin!"

Robin's expression didn't change; he shrugged and murmured, "Okay…?"

"Heroin?" Her voice had grown shrill. "Heroin, Robin! Why is he a Titan if—"

"He's clean now," he pointed out. "For a while now. He hasn't used since before he joined the team. I told you he had a bad past… And besides, the drugs don't connect him with Slade."

"But…" She shook her head. "Heroin?"

"Maybe you should read your teammates' profiles more thoroughly," he chuckled. "Or just ask Speedy, he'll probably tell you something."

"No, he wouldn't," she sighed. "I can't ask him anything, not without him interrupting to ask what he's going to do to Garth."

"Wait—you told him?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "He caught on…"

"Caught on? To what?" Robin put his hands on the table, leaning over it with a smoldering gaze set on her. "Raven, you weren't supposed to—"

"I was asking him questions," she said, "about what he'd do if he Garth rejected him—would he leave? Would he go against the team? Would he…" She frowned. "Would he shoot Garth?"

"And then he realized what must've happened," Robin groaned, sinking into his chair. He kneaded the bridge of his nose in thought. "He guessed you'd seen a vision and panicked, and then you told him everything…"

"No," she contradicted, vehement. "I didn't tell him anything!"

"Which is almost worse, Raven!" He opened his eyes and, shaking his head very slowly, rose from the chair and began to pace. "Now that he thinks he's going to shoot Garth, he's going to think we don't trust him."

"Do we trust him…?"

"It doesn't matter if we do, or if we don't, because even if we tell him the truth, he'll think we're lying to him. He'll think we're withholding information, and he'll get angry and frustrated and when we try to ask him questions, he won't answer with anything but his own questions, and…" Robin stopped, tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. "This is just perfect," he murmured, seething sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, I was just—"

"I know you were just trying to protect Aqualad, but you can't tell Speedy anything more." Robin spun on her, shrugging wildly. "Maybe, by telling him, you just killed Aqualad. I don't know how, but little things can have dire effects on—"

"Now wait a second," Raven spoke over him, insulted. "Weren't you the one who said Slade wasn't trying to kill Garth? And how is any of this my fault? If anyone, shouldn't we be blaming Roy, or at least telling him what not to do?"

"He wouldn't believe—"

"He would believe us, or at least he'd believe me," she spat, starting toward the door. "He himself even said he'd do anything to keep from hurting Aqualad!"

Robin grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the door. "You will not tell him anything!"

Raven wrenched out of his grasp. "If your hand is bleeding, you wouldn't bandage your knee, Robin! Isn't that your saying for fixing a problem at its source? Isn't that why you always go for Slade first and not his robots?"

"This isn't the same thing as a warehouse brawl! This might upset the security of—"

"It is the same thing!" She started towards the door, and this time he didn't stop her. "The blood in our dilemma is coming from Roy, and that's what we need to bandage!" She took a step into the hallway, stopped, and turned back toward him. "Robin… If you don't find anything that connects Slade to Speedy in the next day or so, I'm telling Speedy everything."

Just before the door closed between them, Robin gave the briefest of nods in assent.

xXx

The soft jazz of the restaurant seemed to emanate through the murky darkness, providing a background to the calm dinner conversation of every couple present. The club mostly appealed to the high-income business owners and their wives, and therefore many were surprised to find that the youngest couple there, both barely over twenty, was the most reliable; every week, they would come in and sit in the dark back corner, smoking cigarettes and enjoying the music. No one really knew who they were or what their relationship was, although most liked to think—in their narrow-minded superiority—that the two young men were merely friends, because anything more would be indecent.

One man, the older of the two, had an air of intimidation surrounding him. He had dark eyes set below a severe brow, but when he listened to his companion, his lips would curve in a subtle smile, brightening his visage. He asked for the check with just enough arrogance that it was obvious he was used to being obeyed.

The other man, who excused himself as soon as the waiter scurried away, had trimmed golden hair and dark blue eyes that looked sweet and docile, but also clever and mischievous at the same time. His saunter, even as he went toward the restroom, was carefree and graceful, and his features held a continuous smile.

But as soon as he opened the door to the restroom, the happiness faded from his expression. His pulse stopped and restarted, unsteady the entire time it took for him to close the door behind him and say, "What do you want?"

Slade, standing with a gun lazily pointed at him, took a slow step toward the restroom's sink. On the counter lay a thick portfolio with Confidential stamped on the front of it; Slade picked it up and extended it to the man. "I need you for a job," he said.

The man ran his gaze over the supervillain, his eyes finally settling on the folder. He didn't take it, but rather said, "That gun isn't loaded."

"I know," Slade said. "I thought you would try to take it from me. In the event that you succeeded—which I would allow—you would be left with a useless weapon, while I would have three other firearms hidden somewhere on my person."

"They aren't hidden," the blue-eyed man argued. "One is permanently attached to your waist, another to your left boot and the third lies… across your back, or attached to your right boot." He shrugged. "You're predictable, Slade. I'm not as stupid as I used to be."

"And I'm not as patient as I used to be," Slade said, hinting at an unspoken threat. "Take the file. Now."

The man shrugged and took the folder, flipping it open as if he had time to spare. "Roy Harper," he read from it, "Titans East Tower?" He looked up. "This is an easy observation. Why can't you just use those cameras—"

"I need you to put cameras in place," Slade said, tone indicating impatience. "And, of course, collect basic information of the subjects. The description is—"

"Hold on, hold on!" The man chuckled. "You don't seem to get it—I'm retired." He accentuated each syllable, speaking slowly. "That means—"

"There is an explosive somewhere in this restaurant," Slade interrupted. "Of course, it has enough power to wound most everyone in the building, but it will only be fatal to those sitting in a three-yard diameter."

The man's eyes darkened. "Where—"

"If this explosive were to be placed under your," he paused to make a noise of disgust, "friend's chair, and if I were to push the trigger for it…"

"Don't!" The man closed the portfolio and held it up. "I'll do the job, all right? When do you want it finished?"

"Tonight would be ideal."

"Not tonight, I have—"

Slade chuckled darkly. "Would you like me to push the trigger?"

"No! No, don't set off the damn bomb." He shook his head. "But I can't do it tonight. Tomorrow night, I'll do it."

"Are you attempting to negotiate?" Slade laughed again, just as the sound of breaking glass and a chorus of cries came from the main restaurant.

The man went pale. He turned and tried to open the door, but Slade had thought to jam the door somehow, and now it was stuck shut. He spun back on Slade, whose singular eye seemed to mock him.

"You'll do the job tomorrow night," Slade finally said. "You know where the pick-up will be, and how to contact me once you're finished."

The blue-eyed man could only stare back, horrified, in response.

"The door is open now," Slade said, in closing. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Red X."

The man whirled on the door, portfolio abandoned on the tiled flooring, and shot into the narrow back hallway. He took three steps and suddenly collided with someone who had just turned the corner. He fell sideways and slammed into the wall, sliding to the floor in shock.

Then the familiar voice eased his panic as his dark-featured companion kneeled beside him. "Hey," the older man said gently, pulling him to his feet. "You look sick. Are you okay? Should I take you back to the apartment?"

The man caught his balance, pulse still racing. "Nothing happened to you?"

"No, of course not… Kegan, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm… I'm fine." The name of his forgotten alias ran through his mind again, rumbling in the back of that masked bastard's throat. "I just need some fresh air, that's all."

When he returned home sometime after midnight, the door was locked and the windows were closed, and yet the neglected portfolio sat neatly on top of the kitchen table. The ex-Red X shivered and didn't touch it, knowing that the sudden appearance of the file was meant as both a reminder to do the job, and a warning of the consequences if he failed to comply.

Just a few things to note about this chapter, the first being that yes, I will always call Robin by his alias name (not Dick Grayson). That's simply how it is. Also, Kegan (KAY-ghin) is Red X, and he'll have his own little dilemmas later, which Roy will obviously become a part of. His 'friend' is named Michael, but he's not important yet, so don't worry about it. As mentioned, they're about twenty years old.

Now, about Slade: He stole all of the Titans' personal files. He got onto their online database and copied all the information, and his computer is set to run new scans of the files every few weeks. (This is all unneeded information, by the way.) He's never paid attention to Titans East or other honoraries, so he's in the dark about most of them… because he was too busy stalking Robin/Raven...

This whole deadline thingy isn't working, 'cause this is what I get in reviews: "Is the answer pasta?" What I want to get is, "Um, pasta? November ninth, if I'm right?" because that includes a date! So include a date! Pwease! -mwa-

Question: …There isn't a question, because my deadline is already set for Friday, during the Carnipalooza update-athon! So tune in on April eleventh! Whoo!