12. A Hive at the Opera part 1

"I could use more syrup on these things. Syrup? Syyyyyrrrrrrup?! YO! Syrup!!"

"You get your own syrup," Cyborg spat. "I was against the cooking of that stuff from word one, pal!"

"Awww….know ye not the joy of molasses-soaked tofu??" Beast Boy beamed. He reached over for a transparent jug on the kitchen unit's counter and oozed the material all over his waffles before eagerly chomping away at their masses. "MmmmmMmmm! God's candy---no wait, that's fruit. Ahem…God's aprhodesiac!!"

"Ugh…don't make me sicker than I already am," Robin sniffed from the couch on another side of the room where he rummaged through old crime reports. He was slung in a white-shirt and black shorts. His eyemask looked puffy as he reached occasionally for a tissue box to his right side. "SNORRRT!! Egh….says here that it's been a month since Killer Moth got loose. I was sorta hoping we'd find him in Kobayashi Tower, but that didn't go as expected…did it?"

"For goodness' sake, Robin, can't you call it a day for once?!" Cyborg said from the kitchen, slurping away at a tall glass of orange juice before adding: "We went through all that trouble to save your scrawny butt and you're over there giving us all a headache! You're supposed to be getting better. Not getting busy!"

"Crime never sleeps….so why should I?"

Cyborg shrugged. "Have it your way. Some people just can't be helped." He glanced my way. "Take you for instance, Noir. How can you stand that stuff?"

I took another happy bite of tofu and munched contentedly.

"He's a man of good taste, Cy!" Beast Boy beamed. "You can learn a lot from him!"

"Yeah….like how to avoid food poisoning," Cyborg grumbled. "Is that stuff actually delicious?"

I smiled and nodded slightly.

"Hoooray!" Beast Boy careened and whipped over another plate before me. "Want some more? Maybe with a gallon of syrup this time?"

I politely declined, producing a snort of laughter from the android.

Beast Boy sweatdropped.

Robin snorted too….but it wasn't the happy kind. "Ugh….I hate colds. Why now of all times do I have to get sick?!"

"Don't look at me, man," Cyborg waved. "I never get sick."

"Do too!" Beast Boy glared.

"Do not! The nanoprobes in my bloodstream act as an impervious Immune System! I can fight off anything short of a world-threatening virus."

"Yeah…except when you eat too much candy," Beast Boy said quietly and chuckled like a munchkin.

"Rrrrrrgh," Cyborg growled.

I finished my breakfast, got up, and went to the kitchen sink to wash it away.

"Well, look who's Mr. Efficient!" Beast Boy cackled at me.

"Don't press your luck, Noir," He pointed. "You'll be out of that good habit sooner than you think in this place."

I gave him a sarcastic smile and went back to my work.

"Ugh…it just annoys me to no end," Robin said.

"What does—besides the painfully obvious and infested?"

"Killer Moth…he must be around about somewhere. A guy that psychotic just can't hang out in one place for long."

A pause.

"Fang….I bet he has a connection to him."

"And how…," Beast Boy added nonchalantly and dug away at his food.

Robin sniffed, smirked, and said, "You've been wanting an assignment for a long time, haven't you Beast Boy?"

The green elf looked up with a mouthful of tofu. "Mmmmfff?" (Me??")

"Well, haven't you?"

--GULP—"Yeah! Dude, you bet!!"

"It's time you got some field action!"

"It's about time!" Beast Boy smirked and took another bite. "What do you want of me, Captain?"

"Go and interrogate Fang as to Killer Moth's location."

Beast Boy coughed and a mound of half-digested tofu flew across the room. "HACCCK!! -gassssp- Excuse me?!"

"You heard me. Go interrogate Fang and—"

"That big 'ol creepy Spider….erm….creep! He spiders me out! Er, I mean…he creeps me spider---d'oh!!" His plate fell to the floor and he sweatdropped. "Why can't I just interrogate some normal guy who's head is not a giant bug?!"

"Cuz there're no other acquaintances to Killer Moth in prison at the moment."

"Why not?!" Beast Boy pouted, then brightened. "Oh! I know! How about that pretty little date of yours?!" His eyebrows turned into pink hearts and rose suggestively.

Robin took a deep breath, frowning. "Kitten…," he grumbled through his teeth, "…is missing in action too!"

FLASH!!!

A starbolt exploded out of nowhere. A very anxious Starfire flew into the room—looking frenzied. Her hands glowed in bright emerald fury. "Who?! Who?! Who said the 'K' word?!"

Cyborg gulped. "Easy, Star. We're all to young to die, ya know…"

"Ehm….," Robin cleared his throat, coughed, sniffed, and looked up. "Nothing, Star. Just sending Beast Boy to….track someone down."

"Oh….okay," Starfire lowered her arms and giggled pleasantly. "Need more flimsy paper sanitary sheets, Robin?"

"No….n-no…I've got enough Kleenex, thanks," Robin simpered.

Starfire sighed dreamily and floated off.

Robin rubbed his sore throat. "It's nice and all for Starfire to take care of me…," he thought aloud, "…but I'm not doing terribly. In fact, I slept like a stone last night. I wonder why she's so concerned?"

I smiled innocently and focused on the dishes.

"Ahem….anyways," Robin sniffed. "Go down to prison, Beast Boy. That's your final order. You can refuse, of course—"

"Whewwwww," Beast Boy sighed.

"----if you want to be washing the Tower's windows from now till December."

"I'm going," the boy leapt to action.

"Hang on…take someone with you!" Cyborg said.

"Huh?!" Beast Boy spun around.

"Well, naturally you get to choose someone to join you on this mission," Robin said. "That's the protocol."

Beast Boy scratched his head. "Yeah….I never thought of that." A blink. "But who?"

"Well, I'd love to join you…but I'm too busy battling phlegm at the moment."

"And I've got a T-Car to fix," Cyborg smirked.

"And Starfire's got her hands full of me," Robin added.

Cyborg scratched his chin, "And Raven's been alone in her room since this morning…"

I glanced up momentarily—paused—and returned to my dishes.

"Then who could I choose……," Beast Boy wondered aloud….as if he had to. He slowly looked over in a direction.

The room was awkwardly silent.

So naturally, I turned around…and saw my weekend shot to shambles.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A thin slit of light opened vertically, then parted wide with a glare. Three dark figures marched in: Beast Boy and two armed guards. The door closed behind them as they stepped into a corridor facing a huge sheet of transparent plastic; separating them from a pitch black prison room. Small breathing holes for talking through were at Beast Boy's eye level.

"This is his room, sir," one guard said. "He likes it dark. Don't ask us why. But there's no way to escape on any side of the cell, and this transparent sheet has no chance of breaking. You can talk to him as you see fit….though, to be honest, he doesn't come out into the light much…..for anyone…."

The green elf gulped—tried to hide it—and shook forth: "We'll just have to see about that…"

He sauntered over towards the glass. In the dim light of an overhead, red bulb…he caught a misty image of gigantic spiderwebs stringing their way into the black mire that was the cell on the other side of the plastic.

"God I hate this guy….," Beast Boy whispered. He cleared his throat, put on a stern face, and leaned forwards towards the breathing holes. "So…Fang….here we are. Betcha didn't think you'd be in…..er….here again, didja??"

Silence.

Beast Boy continued. "I need some….information from you. Seeing that we Titans have kicked your butt more than once, you would find it in your best interest to cosplay….er, I mean 'comply'."

Silence.

"Hello?!" Beast Boy planted his trembling hands on his hips. "I am TALKING to ME---Y-YOU!" He shook his head.

Silence.

Then…

An eerie chuckle.

Squirming out from the darkness.

Beast Boy blinked…sweatdropped…and looked both left and right. "Um…..Fang?"

"You're so weak…..so flimsy….," the voice drifted out. "So tiny….how can any meat on your bones be delicious?"

Beast Boy flinched at the word 'meat'. "Dude…I just want to ask you a few questions. Can you cut the—"

"Tell me, changeling….can you turn into insects?"

Beast Boy blinked. "Ummmm…"

"You turn into all sorts of animals without any inhibitions…," the voice droned. "Can you turn into insects too?"

"Well gee….I dunno…I've never tried—HEY! Who's asking the questions here??"

"I wonder what it'd be like if you turned into a fly….fluttered in through one of those holes….and caught yourself somewhere unsuspecting…"

Beast Boy gulped—quite visibly this time—and pointed. "Look….I…"

"Because I sure would enjoy sucking the JUICE OUT OF YOU!!!!" WHUMP!!! A slobbering face of a half-man/half-spider slammed against the side of the plastic sheet, eyes ogling Beast Boy hungrily.

"WAAAAAAAH!!!!!!" the boy jumped back, sweat, and hugged himself. He looked back at the guards. The guards looked at him.

"Er….sorry," the green elf turned greener. "Tourette's Syndrome." He cleared his throat and faced the cell again and its psychotic spider-human. "YOU are GONNA tell ME what I need TO know!!!….um…..BARFMAGGOT!!!"

"Please…," Fang's mandibles shook. "Drop the act. You're as yellow as my own piss on a Saturday morning. Did Robin send you here to…*ruffle* my feathers?!"

Beast Boy made a face. "Um…"

"I'm just a common thief now," the spider person said, pacing the front of the cell—eyeing Beast Boy the whole time. "I may be a mutant of the hideous variety…but it's downright discrimination for you and the Titans to treat me like I'm in the big time anymore just for the way I look."

"Oh please!" Beast Boy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "We all know you did and still *do* have connections to Killer Moth and his rambunctious daughter, Kit—"

"Is that what this is all about??" the spider face cringed and glared. "Those morons? I'll tell you what, that girl and her pathetic pappy are completely gone from my life now. I don't care what's happened to them, or what's going to—"

"Well, it so happens that the Titans do care. Killer Moth has been missing for a while, and we need you to tell us what you know about him last!"

"Hmm….lemme think about that," Fang tapped his head with a spider leg and then blinked all eyes. "Ooooh! I just remembered something!"

"What?"

"KISS MY ABDOMEN!!"

"…….dude….that doesn't make any sense."

"That's exactly what I have to say about this….'questioning' of yours…," Fang drooled from behind the plastic. "Puppets of a façade of justice, that's what you all are. You don't have the guts to come in here. You don't have the guts to meander your way around my domain with hopes of avoiding my webbed wrath! You're all cowards, you hear me?! And until one of you shows the juicy guts you have, I'm not saying jack!"

Just then, Beast Boy grinned. "That can be arranged."

"????"

Suddenly, the darkness behind Fang warbled into a human figure that produced a wooden, blurring sword directly under his neck.

His mandibles gasped.

His whole body spun as I grabbed his amorphous neck and slammed the back of his spiderhead against the plastic, aiming the tip of Myrkblade deliciously close to his bumpy forehead, between the eyes, eyes, eyes.

I smiled and blew a kiss.

"Wh-Wh-Who are you?!!"

"His name's Noir," Beast Boy smirked. "And as you're sure to find out, he's quite the cut up!"

"What's he gonna do to me?!?!" he drooled in terror.

"Gee, I dunno. What are you gonna do to him, Noir?"

I said nothing. I didn't even move. I kept staring down into Fang's eyes. Myrkblade warbled an inch from his exoskeleton.

"Doesn't he talk?!?! Wh-Why doesn't he say anything?!"

"Cuz you're right. Robin did send me to do the talking. Noir, on the other hand, is here to do everything else per my request. You can say stuff, right? Why not start with telling me where Killer Moth and Kitten are?!?!"

"Y-You guys won't hurt me!!!" Fang stammered. "It's against the code of the Teen Titans or something to put people through pain!!"

Beast Boy hummed. "True….but, ya know that Noir's a noobie, right? In fact, I don't think he completed his teammember registration. So he's not technically a Titan yet!"

Fang gulped.

"So where are they?!?!"

"I-I told you!!" Fang gasped, his mandibles quivering. "I'm out of their so-called circle of love!! I have no idea where they are---"

I gripped his body tighter and poked Myrkblade into him.

"TELL US!" Beast Boy yelped.

He squinted his eyes, spider legs trembling. "O-O-Opera house!!"

"Opera house?!?!"

"The Westhaven Opera House!! Just north of the City! I-It's a tour of some sort. Kitten's there! Kitten's there, I swear it!!"

"And Killer Moth???"

"I dunno. I could care less about the old man, I just know where Kitten is! Now will you have him lay off me?!"

Beast Boy coolly gestured to me.

I bowed, smiled, and dropped Fang's arachnid body to the floor with a SLUMP!!

"OOF!!"

I backed up, merged with the darkness, and—like magic—appeared back on the other side next to Beast Boy.

He gave me a thumb's up before kneeling and speaking to Fang on the other side. "So…just what is showing at….the Westhaven Opera House?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Il Trovatore???" Robin sniffed.

"It's some sort of really old, boring opera program," Beast Boy said on the main room monitor. "Something about medieval times or something."

The Teen Titans scratched their heads. They all looked at Raven.

She blinked at them, sighed, and droned: "Il Trovatore…a musical version of 'El Trovador', written by Antonio Garcia Guitierrez. The first show premiered in 1853 and depicted a courtship in Medieval Spain flustered by a duel between two long-lost brothers of a fiery tragedy full of martyrdom and infanticide."

Robin, Cyborg, and Starfire stared at her.

She looked at them all, cleared her voice, and said monotonously, "Um…it's got the 'Anvil Chorus' in it."

"Ohhhhhhh…"

"I see."

"That one."

"Yeah, and that's where Fang said Kitten's hiding out," Beast Boy said.

"What's Kitten doing performing in an old opera?" Robin asked.

"The heck if I know!" Beast Boy said. He gestured to me. "Noir here practically scared the living web out of Fang! When he ratted out, I'm pretty sure he meant it!"

I nodded.

Robin coughed and managed, "And any word on Killer Moth?"

"Negative. Just his daughter."

"I see then…," Robin scratched his chin. "Very well. You guys both check it out. Keep in contact with us over radio if you find that there's more there than that whiny brat."

"Yes…and while you are at it," Starfire added, "Be sure to wash her chronometers like I did with Control Freak!"

"Um….dudes…Westhaven is like twenty plus miles away!"

"So?" Cyborg shrugged. "Make a road trip out of it! Don't you want an assignment or not?"

"Yes! Road trip! Allright, Noir gimme five!" Beast Boy said to me on the monitor.

I reluctantly did, then glanced at the other four on the screen.

"Noir…Beast Boy's been part of the team longer. So I assign him as your leader for this mission."

I raised an eyebrow under my shades.

"Ooooh….did you hear that, Noir?" the elf leaned against me and gave a thumb's up. "You're gonna be taking orders from the maaaaaan!"

I sweatdropped.

"Whatever you do…don't approach Kitten directly," Robin said. "This is technically covert reconnaissance. We just need you to find out as much as you can about her and possibly Killer Moth's circumstances so that we can help out on the investigation. Understood?"

"Roger Wilco, sealed Crisco!" Beast Boy cheered.

"Dear god…," Cyborg pounded his head with a palm.

"Yeah…well—ACHOO!!" Robin sniffed. "Overandout…."

--BLIP--

As our image switched off, Starfire wandered over and placed a blanket over Robin's shoulders.

"Do you think they will actually accomplish anything?" Raven asked suspiciously.

Robin turned around, shivering into his blanket. "I doubt it'll lead anywhere. I just want to be rid of the smell of tofu until this cold clears up…"

"Ah."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Woohoo!!" Beast Boy jumped. "We're gonna make Robin so proud!!"

I nodded lazily and looked off in thought. Something didn't seem right.

We were standing just outside of the prison gates. The noonday sun shown down on us as Beast Boy tucked away his communicator, stretched, and joyfully exclaimed: "My very own mission."

A pause.

He simpered and patted my shoulder above him, "Sorry, dude. Our very own mission."

I smiled, nodded, and tightened my banana.

"Well then…I never thought I'd say this before…but…let's make haste to the Opera!"

He turned into a green eagle and lifted himself up majestically….only to slam hard into a search light above.

CONG!!

"SCHWAWK!!!" He fell back down to the ground, feathers littering the floor.

"Ugh…," Beast Boy mumbled and sat in Elf form, rubbing his head. "Word to the wise….take off in a clear space!"

I breathed forth a chuckle, helped him up with a hand, and led the way to the prison's perimeter.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The Peregrine Falcon is the fastest bird on the planet.

I—safely said—am among the ten fastest human beings on the planet.

Together, and with our fair share of the streaking colors green and black, Beast Boy and I covered the length between the City and Westhaven with time to spare. It was early sunset as we approached the entrance to the Westhaven Opera House; an extremely expensive and fashionable manor built in the middle of a sectioned-off forest from town. People came from far and wide to see the pompous attractions and shows of this place. I never thought I'd see myself within walking distance, to be honest.

The opera house was three stories tall, with a grand entrance with pillars and a giant marquis displaying WESTHAVEN THEATRE in huge yellow letters armed to the teeth with electric light bulbs. At night, the thing had to practically burn with amber glory into the darkness. My black eyes weren't looking forward to it.

The parking lot in front of the manor was empty, save for a handful of trailors and equipment vehicles. But the bulk of activity was situated on the huge lawn stretching out to the West of the manor. Tents and shacks were set up here and there; temporary housing for crew members in charge of putting together the wardrobe and building the props for the upcoming show of "Il Trovatore". Beyond the gypsy-like clusters stretched a small, sapphire lake that shimmered in the sunlight.

"One thing's for sure," Beast Boy smiled at me. "It's no Monster Truck Rally."

I glared at him, shook my head, and continued surveying the scene.

"…..any sign of Kitten?" Beast Boy asked.

I shrugged.

"Oh that's right, you've never seen her!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "Imagine this, only fatter." And he turned into a cross-breed of a pig and a Yorkshire terrier.

I couldn't help it. I smirked.

"HA! You're not so tough an audience, Noir. You really aren't." He stood back and cracked his knuckles. "Well, first thing's first. We need to establish a base of operations."

I looked at him funny, turned around, and gestured to the forests.

"Blaaaaah. No way. Just because I'm a beastly boy doesn't mean I *love* to lay my head on a tree branch any given night!" He squinted at the manor a long way's off and pointed with a "HA! That's where we're gonna be!"

I palmed my forehead and shook my skull.

"What?! It's a great idea!"

I gestured madly.

"Hmm…..gonna be hard hearing what you have to say, isn't it? Wish I brought some pen and paper with us."

I fumed.

"Allright….I'll go in and do recon."

I gasped and pointed at myself.

"Whaaaat? You're not the only one who can sneak around!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

I was still emphatic.

"Noir…relax. You spent the last few hours running here. Let someone with a bit more limbs at his disposal do something for a change. Besides," he smirked evilly. "Robin said I give the shots around here. So watch and learn, rookie. Old Greeny's got an opera house to inspect!" He morphed into a hummingbird and was off.

I started to go after him, but stopped. Realizing he was right, I sighed—defeated—and slumped down behind a tree far off from the manor.

How can a Kitten look like a pig-dog?

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Inside the opera house, in a sublevel hallway which led to numerous dressing rooms, people were in a hustle and bustle of activity. A stage director of sorts—a late-twenties woman with short dark hair and thin glasses—was issuing commands to everyone with upmost…..er…stress.

"For crying out loud, we can't have only ten pairs of gypsy sandals if the producer calls for thirty gypsies!! We've got to rush, people! The Final Showing is in three days!!"

A basement window had been cracked open to air out the stuffy, summer temperature. A green hummingbird flew in, hovered about, and morphed into an Elf in an unseen part of the hallway. He snaked along a wall and pricked his pointed ear in on the conversation.

"Sandy! Come over here!"

Footsteps announced a short teenage girl with light brown hair and glasses of her own rushing up to the dark-haired director. "Y-Yes, Ms. Cartwright?"

"Where're the sandals?"

"With the anvils."

"And where're the anvils?"

"With the candles!"

Ms. Cartwright rubbed her face, sighed, and throbbed forth a: "This is not a joke, Sandy! Either get those sandals or you're back in High School drama!"

"The sandals?"

"Yes, by the candles."

"Don't you mean the anvils, ma'am?"

"Just go get them!!!!!"

"Y-Yes, Ms. Cartwright!"

"B-But first, Sandy. Tell me. Is Mister Allenthorpe here yet?"

"Allenthorpe, ma'am?"

"The head financier! Who else?!"

Beast Boy listened closely.

"We got a call from an Allenthorpe….a-at least I think so'm. He said he'd be late on account of warm weather."

"Ugh! So typical of old men!" Ms. Cartwright groaned. She composed herself, rubbed her glasses, and said, "Well…when he does get here, hail me as soon as possible. We won't be getting the show off the ground without as much as an opening overture if we don't get his top dollars! Brrrr….as if I didn't have Mister Anderson on my neck enough as it is…"

"Is he a classical opera fan, Ms?"

"Who, Mr. Anderson?"

"No, Mr. Allenthorpe'm."

"Why should you care? Get out of here and fetch me those sandals!!"

Beast Boy whispered to himself, "Somehow….if she said 'slippers' instead…it would have fitted her." He frowned momentarily, then rubbed his chin as thought aloud. "Hmm…..Mr. Allenthorpe…."

Suddenly, the green changeling gasped and snapped a finger. "I got it!—whelp!" He swiftly turned into a chameleon and blended into the woodwork of the wall as two stagehands rushed by, carrying a setpiece. Once they were gone, he morphed back into an elf to check if the coast was clear. He then slithered into a snake and ferreted under a nearby door marked 'costumes'. He came out with a bundle of clothes under his paw, then slipped into a pelican that carried them off through and out the basement window with its mouth.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

I did a double-take at him and mouthed: 'What?!?!'

"You heard me!" he smiled proudly as we stood in a forest clearing outside the manor. "You're gonna pretend you're this rich dude named Mr. Allenthorpe! You'll knock on the door, say you're here for reviewing the set at hand, and then ask for a place to stay inside the manor over the next three days before the opera show! That'll give you and me plenty of time to find Kitten and whatnot!"

I gestured and gestured and gestured like mad, but it was all Greek to my little Titan buddy.

"Dude! Just trust me on this!" he tossed a fancy set of clothes down at my feet. "You'll pass just fine as a rich man. Plus—I don't know if anyone ever told you this—but you're remarkably handsome."

I looked at him with an edge of suspicion and slight horror.

"Hey!" he raised his hands and blushed. "Talking from a general perspective. Not my personal belief, pal!"

I nodded slowly as if to say 'Riiiiight'.

It was enough for the homophobic anamorph. "Whew….," he sighed. "So…gonna dress up or not? I got these coooool replacement shades for you!" He beamed, holding the items of question over his face and posing. "Whaddya think? Will Smith?"

I glared at him and stiffly pointed a jabbing finger at my throat.

"Don't worry. The coat you're gonna wear will hide that…erm….'X' scar,' he winced. Then brightened. "And about the whole 'no talking' thing…I've got a swell idea!" He swiftly turned into a parrot and whistled.

I looked about to throw up.

Somehow……I don't think this is what Robin had in mind when he said 'reconnaissance'.

But…who am I to argue with my 'leader'? As a matter of fact, *how* could I?

I exhaled and slowly stripped to don on the rich clothes while Beast Bird looked away.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!

"For goodness' sake! Who's knocking? This is an open house to all you workers, ya know! Sandy, will you go get that?!?!"

"Yes'm, Ms. Cartwright." Sandy exclaimed as she opened the door—then froze. "Oh…….um……." Her face reddened slightly. "M-Mr. Allenthorpe?"

There I stood, garbed completely in a business suit, hair tucked down into my collar to hide its length, my shades exchanged to hide my trademark Titan look….and I had a green parrot on my shoulder.

I tried smiling…and I swear a tooth or two broke in desperation.

Sandy blinked at me. "Um, Ms. Cartwright? We have a visitor!"

This was gonna be a long story…