The park flashes by. And it is beautiful. The walkways and the fountains and the lampposts slowly flickering to life under the shadow of approaching night. Children and family members walk happily along the lush paths in each other's presence. They seem so incredibly happy…so incredibly detached from the turbulence that transpired just a few blocks away. A bank robbery that we had just stopped.

"You ever notice how there's always one guy who never talks?"

"What's that, B.B.?"

"When you have a bunch of thugs and robbers…," Beast Boy gestures from where he sits besides me in the T-Car. "One of them's never gonna talk. And usually he's the big and tall one who loves to smash you over the head with a baseball bat or mace!"

"Batman always said that the quiet ones are who you've got to look out for," Robin smirks from the other side of Beast Boy. "They'll sneak up on you when you're too preoccupied taking out the creeps who heckle you. You see? Bad guys have a system…"

"Bad guys have a concussion!" Beast Boy barks. "What matters is we thrashed them good, right?"

"I'm just saying. It's always best to think in review of a day's worth of crime fighting. Successful or not."

"But just hold the fort now…," Cyborg murmurs. He glances in the rear view mirror. "Beast Boy….which of the goons we just throttled was a 'quiet one'?"

"Ya know? The….the big guy! He was tackling Starfire at the end of the whole thing!"

"He was?"

"Yeah. The…ya know….Hispanic looking one!"

"Hispanic?"

"Beast Boy….he was not Hispanic."

"Huh? Well he looked it."

"What do you mean he looked it?"

"Well, I dunno! He didn't talk! I couldn't tell if he had an accent or not. I bet he couldn't even speak English! Heh…"

"Technically, because you have an accent doesn't mean you're Hispanic…"

"Dude…what does it matter anyways? These are bank-robbing creeps we're talking about. Why the sudden case of political correctness?"

"Perhaps the cretin Beast Boy is referring to was Herspanic?"

"Ha ha ha ha….no, Star. Not the same thing."

"Are human beings not all unique and special in their own differences?"

"That's what we're talking about, Starfire."

"No it isn't! We're talking about thugs who don't talk much! Cyborg's the one turning it into a social studies discussion."

"I don't think he was Hispanic. Just because his skin was a little tan—"

"Dude! I'm not that shallow!"

"Heh. You know, I never thought of it….but just what are you, Beast Boy?"

"Huh?"

"Are you white? Black? Asian? What are you?"

"Ha ha ha!"

"Hey! I'm a lean, green robber-throttling machine!"

"No, I mean before."

"Dude! It ain't easy being green!"

"He's Caucasian, Cyborg."

"Dah! Robin, how do you know that?"

"Garfield Logan. Parents: Anglo-Saxon. Mixed Scottish and German background added in."

"Pfft. No fair. Just because he wears a cape he thinks he can become Big Brother."

"Hehehehe! I am of the Amber race, am I not?"

"Amber race….heheh….whatever you say, Star."

"Anyone on your planet Hispanic?"

"Beast Boy!"

"What? Just a question!"

"Blah. I'm pulling in through a DQ. Anyone want a shake?"

"Oooh! I do! I do! I desire to indulge in the shakes!"

"Same here, Cyborg."

"Count me out, dude. I'm too contemplative to drink anything."

"Suit yourself, little man. Raven?"

"Raven?"

"Someone hit the Raven! I think she's stuck!"

"Hehehehehe."

"Ha ha ha ha!"

I sigh. The park is gone. I gaze beyond the lights of cars in a drive through and remain still. Silent.

Sleepy.