39. Silence is Crimson part 1
An hour and a half earlier…
Inside the City Court House…
"Heading home so soon, Judge Carson?" a secretary spoke from a wooden desk.
A graying man smiled at her as he tugged along a suitcase and headed for the front atrium. "Theresa misses me these long nights," Carson said. "With this immigrant custody trial…I've been too preoccupied to even have dinner with her. Being as it is so close to our anniversary, I thought I might make an exception tonight."
"Ah, a break then, your honor?" the secretary smiled. "If I may be so bold, you need one."
"So does my wife," the judge winked. "Have my papers ready in the morning, Freeda. I don't want to think about them until then."
"Understood."
It was late in the evening. The sun had already gone down, and the long gothic windows stretching across the atrium like a cathedral cast dim streetlamp light onto the marble floor as the judge clip-clopped towards the exit in his dress shoes. His shufflings echoed throughout the dead interior. There was an eerie silence, save for the swish of a revolving door as he exited into the night air outside. It was strangely thin for a summer evening. Chilling in its own way.
Carson thought little of it. He ruffled his shoulders in his suit, walked towards the VIP lot, and straight to his car. A single streetlamp overshadowed his luxury vehicle. Every now and then, the old bulb blinked between white, yellow, amber, and a touch of red. The latter of which hues it seemed to linger on as the judge stood in front of his car door. There was absolute silence until his hand deafeningly shuffled into his right pocket and produced a clump of dangling keys. He fumbled for the right one to his car door with two fingers and took a deep breath.
Theresa's eyes never lost their blue…
There was a tiny whisper of wind that kicked at his graying eyebrows. Suddenly, the summer heat was cut by a touch of cold through his wrist—followed by a flash of silver that was there and was gone in an instant.
Judge Carson blinked. The cold wave in his arm ended, and it became intolerably hot.
Clink!!!
His keys struck the asphalt.
He looked down and realized why. His hand had been cut off.
"!!!" the judge gasped and looked at the red stub that was aimed at his car's door. It hung there—naked in the moonlight—and started to spray.
Blood came out like a fountain for a throbbing two and a half seconds—staining the aluminum body of the car from peach to red.
And then the pain hit.
The suitcase fell.
"AAAUGH!!" Carson clutched his severed limb, twisted, and slammed hard against his splattered car as he writhed in pain. "UGHHH!!!! GOD!!!!" His teeth grit. His eyes watered. Blood spread down his arm and across his torso like crimson vomit.
He slumped down against the body of the car till his back was to the front left tire. He heaved. He exhaled forcibly: "Somebody!! HELP!!"
His watering eyes wandered down. A pool of thick crimson gathered beneath his body. A footprint appeared in the pond out of nowhere.
Carson's eyes widened.
A column of sparkles danced up from the imprint in the blood. Smoke and a spark or two danced off into the dark of night as, slowly, a black leg materialized. His eyes twitched upward and saw a black body. Hanging from the obsidian figure was a humongous sword. Frighteningly silver in contrast. And then there hovered two twinkling eyes in darkness.
The streetlamp blinked red.
"NOOOOOO!!!"
The figure drew the sword back and jabbed forward.
The last sensation to go through Carson's body was the shock of the exploding tire against his back…just milliseconds before he felt the metal that had skewered his body and then…
Nothing.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Sirens.
Screeching tires.
Spinning lights.
The chief squad car came to a stop.
Out from the passenger's side stood Commissioner Decker. He squinted at the gathering emergency vehicles and officers hustling about the taped-off scene in front of the Courthouse.
He sighed. "Gone are the days of coffee and donuts…"
He walked briskly towards the scene. A lieutenant rushed up to join his pace.
"Anything left of him?" Decker asked.
"And how. All over the place. A bloody mess. No pun intended."
"Serial killer? Assassin?"
"Too early to say. There's no known enemies in Carson's career. The only family he had was his wife at home."
"He's a judge. We should factor that in," Decker said. "What's the case he was overseeing?"
"Hernandez vs Montoya," the officer replied. "Custody battle."
"Hardly seems intense a situation enough for this type of murder" Carson said. "I'd like to see the body."
"Well, sir, we wish you more luck than we've had," the lieutenant said as they reached the tape. "I did say we had the remains of Judge Carson…..I didn't say we had any of it in one piece."
Carson ducked under the tape. He approached the car where photographs were being taken. He stared. He made a face.
"If you're going to ask….sir…..the answer is 'no'. Carson did not own a red luxury car."
"An obviously out-of-place choice for window tint…," Decker said. He swallowed something back down and looked a the lieutenant. "Any evidence left behind? Odd clues?"
"We're still working on that, sir," the officer replied. "Odd as it may sound, there's indeed a lot to look at here."
"A job I don't mind passing to the underlings….," Decker said with a sigh, looking off towards the tall windows of the court house's front. "Mrs. Carson??"
"We're sending two men to the mansion right now, sir," the lieutenant said.
Decker nodded. "Very well. I want to speak with her personally as soon as possible. No doubt she will be…….distraught by all this. Regardless, I need to know as much raw information from her as I can possibly find. If she knew her husband best…she might know something about his fate that nobody else could have predicted." Decker sighed and managed another look at the 'car'. "I do not think we're dealing with a murder of your….average human nature."
The lieutenant nodded. "The Titans have already been summoned, just as you suggested."
"Any news on their proximity?"
The officer looked over Decker's shoulder and pointed. "I believe you have your news, sir."
Decker turned around.
The T-Car ambled up per directions by workers. Raven and Beast Boy flew down to a landing on the sidewalk. Finally, I blurred up from a side street and came to a stop as Cyborg, Robin, and Speedy got out of the car.
"And so it begins….," Decker mumbled and walked forward.
"Commissioner Decker," Robin gestured and stepped up. "We came as fast as we could."
"It makes very little difference with the promptness tonight…," Decker said. "The damage is far more than done."
"Sounds bad…," Speedy remarked.
"It is," Decker nodded. "But you wouldn't believe how bad unless you saw it for yourself." He made for the car but stopped halfway. He fought for words and eventually said to us, "I understand that you six are….superheroes. But many of you are still young. And the murder that's taken place here is….not pleasant."
"Nothing about murder is pleasant," Raven said bluntly.
"We're here for the City in its victories," Cyborg said.
"Let us be here for its defeats," Robin finished.
I nodded.
Decker breathed. "Very well." He motioned silently.
We followed along.
When we reached the site, there was a fair share of grimacing.
"Holy….holy….," Beast Boy blinked. "….er…h-holiness!"
"Is all that blood…..from a person?" Speedy remarked.
My eyes were wide and black under my shades.
"The honorable judge Carson," Decker sighed and lit a cigarette. "God rest his soul."
Robin stepped as close as he could to the gruesome scene without damaging the evidence. "You can't tell what did it! Gunfire….laceration…..?"
"How about an explosion?" Cyborg remarked.
Raven was deadpan.
Robin kept squatting around the soaked car. Studying it up close.
Beast Boy gulped and held a hand over his mouth.
I scratched my chin and stared from where I stood.
"If any of you heroes can toss me a bone here, I'd be most grateful," Carson mumbled.
"How long ago was he discovered…..l-like this?" Robin asked.
"About forty minutes…," Commissioner Decker said. "An hour and a half ago, he was last seen leaving the courtroom by his secretary. Around the time she had to go home, she drove through the parking lot and noticed his car still there. When she came close enough to see……well…….the call to 911 was most frantic indeed."
"I'd say…," Beast Boy urped.
Decker glared. "Are there any rogues…any criminals…any crimelords among your nemeses capable of committing such an atrocity?"
"Capable, yes," Robin said as he stood up. "Willing? No. Our City's roster of villains is chock full of the egotistical…the obsessive….and the foolish. What I'm seeing here is the work of pure madness and hatred. It's like old times."
"Gotham City has its fair share of horrors," Decker nodded. "I never thought I'd live to see the day Hell caught up with this Town."
"It has to be a newcomer…," Robin said.
"Not Slade?" Raven asked.
Robin turned and looked at her. "What purpose would this serve Slade? Even if it was him, it's not his style. There's nothing that outright taunts us…leads us to him. You know how he obsesses over us….over me. It's not Slade."
"But it could be someone working for him?" Decker asked.
"I can't tell for sure," Robin said. "Like I said. I don't even think Slade's a part of this. Just because he's the darkest member of our rogues doesn't mean that—"
"Say…," Beast Boy sniffed the air. "Is something burning?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Huh?" Speedy remarked.
"I swear…it smells like—"
"Blood," Raven glared. "Get used to it."
Beast Boy whimpered and took a step or two back.
"Whoever it is, he covered his tracks," Robin said. "Carson's body is so completely desecrated that there's no hint as to what caused him to be….everywhere."
"Not exactly!" Cyborg said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
The whole time the discussion went on, the android had been scanning the scene beyond the limits of normal human vision.
"There's a shoeprint here!" he pointed down.
"Where?" Beast Boy exclaimed. "I don't see anything!"
"Cuz it's below the upper layer of blood," Cyborg said. "There's an older layer at the very bottom—between the surface and the asphalt. It's like a cover of blood that dried out before the rest. And it left an imprint. Here, I'll highlight it for you."
He extended an arm and popped open a couple of panels. His other hand typed away at a keypad and a beam of light shot down and illuminated a section of dried blood in the pool through holograms. The other Titans and I—including Decker and the lieutenant—walked over and glanced over his shoulder.
A rough approximation of a shoeprint and its lines appeared before our eyes.
"So he did leave a clue!" Speedy said.
"Not something the police and I would have found," Decker said. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked up at Cyborg. "At least nowhere near as quickly."
Cyborg shook his head. "And by the time you could figure it out, the old blood and the fresh layers would have congealed together. Making the imprint impossible to find---no matter how faint."
"But the Titans could analyze it fast enough," Robin said. "Meaning…"
"We were expected," Raven nodded. "This is a message after all."
"A sickening waste of life is what it is…," Decker grunted. "But if it's a message to you Titans as well…I implore you all to decipher it. And quickly."
I raised an eyebrow from under my shades and gestured at the commissioner.
Cyborg looked at me and then nodded at Decker. "Noir's right. There's something more to this than you're not telling us, is there?"
Decker breathed out smoke. He held a hand over to the lieutenant.
The officer handed him three files.
Decker shuffled through them and presented the bunch to Robin. "Three other murder cases. Throughout the course of the day."
Robin glanced through the files. "Connection?"
"Not to this….not yet," Decker said. "But I believe it will. We'll discover it soon." He pointed, "Today…a cop, a security guard, and an M.P. from the army base all died within a span of six hours. Each were murdered alone. Each were on their way home. And…."
"And???" Raven asked.
"Each was missing their hand. Their right hand."
I looked over at Robin.
Robin stared. "Curious…"
"Sir!" someone called out from the front of the car.
Decker glanced over. He walked briskly over as we followed.
"There's something inside the car….we have to get a better look."
Decker glanced at the blood on the windshield. He nodded at the worker. "Okay…"
The worker hesitantly leaned forward, wiped a gloved hand over the glass, and cleared a clean view in and onto the dashboard dimly lit by the crimson light.
"Gods…," Cyborg grunted.
"This is nuts…," Speedy added.
Beast Boy coughed and looked away.
I leaned forward and squinted through my shades.
There was a severed right hand resting between the dashboard and the steering wheel. Between the fingers was a set of keys.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Decker lit another cigarette. He took a puff and blew out through his lips.
"You know….those things are bad for you…," Robin said.
The two stood behind a police van at the very edge of the scene in the shadows. Flashing lights and busy workers drowned off in the distance.
"There are many things in this world that are bad for me…," Decker said. "I could be in worse situations."
"You are the morose type..," Robin said. "Not like Gordon."
"You're going to compare me to Gordon, eh?" Decker said with half a smirk. "You sure are being 'brought back' to Gotham, aren't you?"
Robin stared down at the asphalt.
Decker blew another cloud of smoke. "I knew this day would come. As soon as the Titans assigned themselves to this city…I knew the innocent days would end."
"Now you're sounding like a prophet of doom."
"Would you deny it?"
"I don't deny that a terrible atrocity has been committed," the Boy Wonder gestured, "At the same time, I'm not accepting some hideous fate. Yes…we're dealing with what may be a potential madman of the most violent proportions. For all I know, it may not be a man—or person at all. But if there's one thing that history's told me, it's that evilness does not go—"
"—unpunished?"
"Without a trace…," Robin said. "Evilness can be a silence. A silence that kills and wanders off under the shroud of secrecy. But something had to have been used to form that shroud to begin with. And that's where the search begins."
"We're not dealing with the usual, tongue-and-cheek villain here, Robin," Decker said. "This is a whole new ball game."
"And quite frankly, I'm older than I look," Robin replied. "I grew up with this sort of thing under my mentor. I'm ready to solve any mystery….no matter how bloody."
"And…," Decker relented with a smoky sigh. "You all are the only ones this city can depend on."
Robin managed to smirk. "Now you are sounding like Gordon."
"Yes……yes, I suppose I am," Decker took a last puff and tossed the cigarette to the ground where he stepped on it. "That supposed to be a good luck charm?"
"If it makes you feel any better, yes," Robin said. "If your men are cooperating with the Titans as we speak, then Cyborg should have his sample of the shoeprinted-blood right now. We're gonna analyze the heck out of it. Maybe it'll help us find some sort of connection with the other three murders today. And where there's a connection…there's room for more clues."
"Think you'll do well short of a Titan?" Decker asked.
Robin lifted an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"The alien girl…," Decker commented. "She was absent today."
"Secret business…," Robin remarked. "All I can tell you is that she's fine. She's just…..indisposed."
"Your face speaks otherwise," Decker said.
"……," the Boy Wonder was silent.
"Don't look so shocked, young detective," Decker remarked. "Even a low-grade idiot can see your concern for a fellow teammate. There's something wrong with her and it's hounding at your soul."
"So what if it was?"
Decker took a bold step forward and pointed into Robin's chest. "Don't. Let. It. Distract. You."
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Raven, Speedy, Beast Boy, and I sat on the steps to the courthouse away from the flashing scene.
Speedy ran a hand through his short red hair, whistled, and smirked at the others. "You sure I didn't walk into Bloodhaven instead?"
"Hardly amusing…," Raven grunted. "We're in a serious situation here."
"Really…."
"Or in your vernacular…," Raven blinked. "Deep shit."
"Only in my vernacular."
"Yes, only in yours."
"Gotcha."
Beast Boy hugged his knees to his chest. "Holy…..holy…..holy…."
I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Shellshocked?" Speedy asked with a raised eyebrow.
I nodded towards the changeling.
"Figures," the archer said. "Ever seen death before, kid?"
Beast Boy shook his head 'yes' without looking.
"That surprises me," Speedy spoke. "You strike me as the soft type."
"I'm only soft because of what I've seen…," Beast Boy said. "….and still see."
"Happens to the best and worst of us," Raven droned.
I smirked.
Cyborg walked up from the scene. "B.B."
The green changeling looked up. "Y-Yes?" he stuttered, hugging his knees.
"What was it you said earlier?" the android asked. "About what you smelled…."
"I…I-I only said I thought I smelled something burning…," he said.
"Why do you ask?" Raven inquired.
Cyborg scratched the human part of his chin. "The shoeprint I've been studying…," the android remarked. "I think I may be onto something…."
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Early the next morning…inside the Tower, Cyborg sat at the computer of the Main Room's computer screen. Robin and Speedy stood behind him. Beast Boy was in the kitchen unit. Raven sat with a mug of tea at the bar counter while I sat on the side, polishing Myrkblade.
"Here's the chemical analysis of the layers of dried and fresh blood that formed the shoeprint I discovered," Cyborg said as he typed furiously at the keyboard and brought up a few windows of schematics. "Notice the composition of the old blood contrasted with that of the new."
"Less oxygen in the dried cells…," Robin said. "What's it mean?"
"It means that the blood didn't dry up normally," Cyborg said. "In fact, whatever happened to the blood helped it to keep its more solid shape that allowed me to notice the shoeprint when we first scanned the scene."
"Like a molding?" Speedy asked. "What would have caused that?"
"Beast Boy said he smelled something burning…," Cyborg said.
"That's right! I did!" he called over from washing the dishes.
"At first, I thought it was just the smell of all the blood. Then I got to thinking: 'What would happen if blood was subjected to intense heat?' So I did a few calculations with my onboard circuitry and came up with a hypothetical scenario."
"Let's see it."
I looked up from my wooden sword as Cyborg initiated an animated diagram on the screen of a pool of blood being subjected to heat.
"If there was a jolt of intense heat…like, in the shape of the shoeprint itself……"
"The oxygen dries up," Robin finished.
"But why would the blood have molded around the shoe?" Speedy asked. "Don't things that heat up usually do the opposite of solidifying?"
"That's why I think the heat generated was an intensely short burst. The energy supplied was cut off as soon as it exploded forth through the blood cells. A circuit of energy was cut off before it could complete its natural cycle."
"A circuit?" Robin lifted an eyebrow.
"Electricity….," Raven said, her lips to a mug.
"A huge jolt of it too," Cyborg nodded.
"From someone's foot?!" Beast Boy remarked.
"From someone's boot," Cyborg corrected. "Not an average boot either."
"Something high-tech, no doubt," Robin said. "If this theory is true…"
"And it is a wild theory…," Speedy crossed his arms.
"I know. I felt the same way," Cyborg said. "Then I looked at the images of the other three murders."
"Awwwww," Beast Boy whimpered. "Do we have to look at those again?"
"Turn away if you want to, B.B.," Cyborg said, already keystroking the windows open.
Beast Boy squinted into the background.
I smirked.
Cyborg brought the photos up. "Notice the bloodstains around the bodies."
"I see them," Robin nodded. "What now?"
"Look again when I invert the colors…"
He pressed a key.
The photos turned into negatives.
Raven turned around and squinted at the screen.
I leaned forward over my polishing.
"There're…..white spots," Speedy blinked beneath his masks. "One in each pool."
"In each photograph…," Robin added.
Raven said, "Right next to the severed hand, no doubt."
"There's a burnt shoeprint at each of these sites…," Cyborg said. "Unless there's some conspiracy by a bunch of murderers to make this look like a connection…then we're dealing with a criminal who has not just ended the lives of four city officials in one day…but he did it all within the span of ten hours and decided to play fingerpainting with the blood just to finally get our attention."
Silence.
I cleared my throat.
Cyborg looked at me.
I gestured.
Cyborg nodded. "Yup…and each hand severed is a right hand. Apparently done prior to death, judging by the condition of the sliced arteries."
"This is turning out to be an absolutely terrific week," Beast Boy said, nearly throwing up.
Robin thought of something…someone. He sighed. "Tell me about it." A pause. "God, I hate this."
"You're not alone," Cyborg sighed and leaned back. "What do we do?"
"If there's anything I've learned from psychotic serial killers…it's not to encourage them," Robin said with arms folded.
"Wouldn't there be damage done if we ignored this person entirely?" Raven asked. "I mean…you saw how far she or he went."
"I know…that's what's scaring me at the moment," Robin nodded. "For once…I can't predict what's going on. And I think that's exactly what this silent maniac wants from us."
"I wouldn't be so sure…," Speedy said.
We all looked at him.
"This creep couldn't possibly care about having our attention…," the archer said.
"Then what would he want?"
Speedy smirked. "Us."
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
The next day, inside Cyborg's laboratory, Starfire lay silently on a medical bed. Instruments blinked and beeped while she rested still. Breathing lightly through her nostrils. Her hair perfectly straight and beneath her fair head. Her green eyes shut.
When Robin was done staring at her comatose features, he took a sigh and knelt down besides the bed. His face was near her head. He could almost smell her.
Silence. And then…
"And to think the worse we ever get is nocturnal emissions…," he chuckled.
"…….," the Tamaranian slept.
"Gotta hand it to you, Star," Robin smirked. "You make sleeping on the job look so innocent."
A beat.
"I spoke with the C.S.A.I.T. Ya know, the satellite computer person thingy? We had to use your pod's transceiver, I hope you don't mind."
"….."
"He explained everything to us. The hormonal induced hypersleep thingy…god, it must be annoying to collapse out of nowhere and be unconscious for a week or two." A pause. "At least, I hope it's no longer than a week or two."
"……"
"The C.S.A.I.T. told us that it radioed your homeworld. Some sort of Tamaranian physician is supposed to be coming by. But there're many light years for him to travel, so it won't be until two or three days at least until he's here. He's supposed to help you wake up faster. Apparently it's customary on your planet to undergo this procedure. And….to be honest….I'll be relieved once he gets here."
"….."
"You really light up the place, Star. Especially when you're awake. Especially when you're smiling. Especially when you're kicking criminal butt or smiling when you find out your teammates are okay or when you're asking for the explanation of some earthling catch phrase and…..j-just everything."
"….."
Just then, Speedy walked into the laboratory. He saw Robin and silently came to a stop, leaning in the doorframe. He watched. And listened.
"And…..it's really nice….h-having you around, Star…," Robin said with an exhausted grin. "It's really nice having you as part of the team."
"….."
The Boy Wonder sighed and leaned his head against the side of the bed. "I…r-really miss you right now, Star. Especially with all this….murder going around. I almost feel like I'm back in Gotham again with this sort of stuff. And it's not necessarily because of the violence factor. Rather….I feel like I don't have a very dear friend to share my feelings with. Before I helped set up the Titans….I-I really needed that. I really did…."
"…."
"And now that you're slumbering away….for lord knows how long…..I'm missing out on it again…."
Speedy cleared his throat.
Robin jumped up, straightened his cape, and turned around. "Speedy. Greetings. How can I help you?"
"I didn't mean to interrupt your confessions," Speedy smirked.
"Confessions?" Robin lifted an eyebrow above his eyemask. "I was….um….merely testing her ability to….um….be coached through subliminal osmosis."
"Sure you were," Speedy smirked.
Robin glared. "I suppose I do have better things to do…," he wandered for the door.
Speedy folded his arms. "She really cares for you. You do see that, of course, right?"
Robin froze. He turned around. "What are you getting at?"
"Don't play dumb, detective!" Speedy cackled. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"And if I do…," Robin said, "…and kick my foot up your ass because I know what you're talking about….would you be grateful?"
"As long as it was you and not Beast Boy."
"Allrighty then," Robin said. He looked towards Starfire. He sighed. "Ya know, Speedy, you don't have to be here anymore."
"Still trying to get rid of me?" the archer smiled. "I thought we resolved that during the Field Day."
"I'm serious, I'm worried about this situation," Robin spoke. "You have no obligation to the Titans that would make you stay here and possibly get your neck in trouble."
"Hey…trouble's part of the business!" Speedy exclaimed. He pointed, "I'm shocked to hear this coming from the cliché' speaker of the old 'stay here because we need your special talent in this time of dire need' fluff."
"Nobody's saying it…but…," Robin exhaled, "…all the Titans are worried. This is shaking them up because they haven't seen this sort of stuff before. Raven and I…we're not so phased. But Noir, Beast Boy, and Cyborg….I'm concerned for them."
"And for me too?" Speedy asked. "That's why you want me to pack up and go, right?"
"I—"
"I'm here because I want to see this whole mess resolved," Speedy spoke. "I don't just run away from a mystery that begs to be explored. After all, you—of all people—should know that it's my distinct belief that winning is all that matters….especially when it comes to friends."
Robin smiled. "So we're your friends now."
"Always have been," Speedy winked under his mask. "Even if your ego was too blind to notice that."
"Yeah….sorry about that."
"I know you are."
Robin stuck his tongue out. "Did you come here to give me some motivational speech?"
"Nope," Speedy shook his head. "I came here to tell you that there's been a possible development in the weapons trafficking."
"……," Robin stared.
"Ya know!" Speedy gestured. "Anderson's arsenal?!"
"Oh…..yeah….," Robin rubbed his temples. "I kinda sorta forgot about that ever-important situation."
"Fancy that."
"Let's go hear it…," Robin said.
"Gladly."
As they made their way towards the elevator, Robin took one last forlorn glance at the slumbering Tamaranian.
He held his breath.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Raven pointed to a diagram on the computer. "By now…we've located twenty-two percent of Simon Stone's products for Anderson. The sting at the warehouse worked greatly to our advantage. There were many units found, and at least two new categories of weaponry we haven't seen before. They even had the model numbers and everything."
Robin, Speedy, Cyborg, Beast Boy, and I were watching and listening to her.
"Lemme guess….the robots fit in some how?"
"Stone's work, no doubt," Raven nodded. "They had model numbers on them. The structural design is very similar to that of the model used for Metallo's design. Only much cheaper."
"Many of them could be made easily, right?" Beast Boy suggested.
"In theory. But I think those were the only three," Raven said. "We got our hands—or fists on these things in the nick of time. Had we been a few days later, the latest and greatest underground crime syndicate would have acquired it and used the prototypes to mass produce a whole gallery of android thugs to use against us and the local law enforcement."
"It may be my uncle's engineering…," Cyborg folded his titanium arms, "…but it's Anderson's dirty sales pitching."
"You know….those robots looked strangely familiar…," Robin said.
"They should," Raven said. "They have at least two dozen identical mechanical similarities with a type of robot we've fought earlier."
She typed away at the keyboard. A picture of a black and brown, reflective android henchman appeared.
Robin stood out of his seat and clenched his fists. "Slade…"
I looked at him.
"No way!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "You mean this whole crazy Anderson/Stone/Dragonflare/Weapon Arsenal thing has some connection to Slade too?!?!"
"And 'Dagger'!" Speedy smirked. "Don't forget to toss in that pretty little word."
"Oye….," Cyborg covered his face with his palm.
"There's nothing to make us believe Slade had a hand in this," Raven said. "Though it's very much possible, it's also likely that the basic components of the androids we ran into were either coincidentally identical to or stolen from the design of Slade's mechanical minions."
"Even if Anderson was pulling his strings….," Cyborg said, "…Simon would never plagiarize. If his handiwork looks like Slade's robots, then more than likely he made Slade's men too."
"Are you saying….," Robin said, "…you think Anderson made Stone engineer for Slade too?"
Cyborg glanced at Robin with his human eye. "Would you hold it against Anderson?"
"Man….," Beast Boy exclaimed. "It all comes full circle."
"How would this 'Dagger' fit into things?" Robin asked.
"'Dagger' is a word," Raven said. "My best theory is that 'Dagger' is a middleman."
"The meat between the bread," Speedy smirked.
Beast Boy winced.
"Stone made the weapons…," Robin spoke, "…Anderson provided the product…..Dagger distributed the product….and Slade……….?"
"We may be knee deep in something brand new happening here…," Cyborg said.
Raven raised an eyebrow, "Or in Speedy's vernacular---"
Robin cleared his throat. "You said there was….another category?"
"Yeah…what else beside the androids did they find at the warehouse?" Beast Boy exclaimed.
"Well, they didn't find the other category," Raven said. "But they know it exists. It's like a ghost."
"How so?"
"Remember the data we found in Anderson's yacht?" Raven said. "The very same data we've been basing this whole search on?"
"Yeah."
"There're similar documents at the warehouse," she explained. "Identical in style and ambiguity to Anderson's own copies. Among the arsenal distributed to the location, there was one category that consisted of two units only. Whatever this technology is, the two units were sold barely before we got there."
"Do we know to who?"
"Yes."
"Great!" Robin jerked his hand and smiled. "An end to search!"
"Evidence points to a wealthy nightclub in the Southeast of Town called the Crystal Palace," Raven said. "If we find the proprietors, we might find the answers. And then…"
"We might find where the two units went," Robin said. "And in turn….more answers concerning this conspiracy."
"Sounds good to me!" Beast Boy shrugged.
"I suggest we commence a search…..even an interrogation," Robin said. "Let's pay a special trip to the Crystal Palace. And screw the age limit!"
"Aren't we forgetting something?" Cyborg remarked. "There's a bloody murderer on the loose."
Robin nodded. "We should focus on that foremost," he said. "But at the same time, I can't risk losing any momentum in hunting down these sold weapon units."
"Split up?" Beast Boy suggested.
"I would like to investigate the nightclub…," Raven said. "I've been studying the findings at the warehouse closely. I have a few suspicions I want to sort out. And there's no better way than if I go seek them out myself."
"Understood," Robin nodded. "The murder case is important….so we'll need a lot of Titans on it. But at the same time, I don't want you to go alone." A pause. "Take Noir with you."
I looked up.
"I think the two of you will be a sufficient force to be reckoned with," he said. "Speedy, Cyborg, Beast Boy….I suggest you guys come with me."
"Where're we going?" the changeling asked.
"A couple of places," the Boy Wonder said. "First off….the Bay Side Mall."
"Where the security guard was murdered…," Speedy said.
"We know that the manner in which the murders were committed were all similar," Robin spoke. "But what we don't know is how the scenes of the crime were all similar. I want to go take a personal look and judge for myself. We might find another pattern…and something we can prevent."
"Allrighty," Speedy said. "I'll take my boat."
"And I'll take my car," Cyborg smirked.
"And I'll take Noir," Raven droned and tugged on my arm. "Come on. We've got a party to crash."
I smirked, saluted at the rest, and followed her.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
At the City's Prison, Chief Warden Georgeton sighed. Ever since the Titans' less-than-flattering battle with Slug and Reload at the facility, people had been working around the clock to reconstruct the damage that had been done. Cranes, earth movers, and various materials lined up outside the smashed walls where the two cybernetic villains had forced their way out. Inside the prison—within the West Wing—extensive repairs were being made to the basement levels, sewage pipes and—most importantly—the inmate quarters. It wasn't the first time the prison's interior had to be refitted due to a superheroic battle that took place within. Everything was becoming far too familiar and annoying to the stressed Warden. He had to wonder if the Titans were for much good other than demolition. Twice they had visited the facility he overlook. And on both occasions, their battles had been losses.
Georgeton shuffled through the construction site as the workers started to head on home for the evening. The sunset fell slow, and red. Almost a crimson. It glittered on Georgeton's pale skin as he shuffled off towards the main structure, walked through a gate and entered the guards' section of the prison through a side door.
He walked up a set of stairs and into an office. A subordinate warden was typing away at the computer.
"Here late, Jefferson?" Georgeton remarked.
"I am if you are, sir," the assistant replied. "Gotta get this prison back into ship shape." A pause. "Lord knows it's dead quiet in here ever since we relocated the prisoners out of the West Wing."
"Can't have any escaping and posing as construction workers…," Georgeton said as he visited the water cooler and poured himself a sip. "I rather like the silence we've been awarded with, atually."
"Never would have guessed, sir."
Georgeton smirked.
"Read the papers today, by chance?"
"Yup….scary shit," Georgeton said, glancing over a front page on a local desktop. "Assassin….serial killer….psychotic whatever. Doesn't it creep you out how he takes the hand off first and then kills his victims?"
"All speculatory, sir," Jefferson uttered, typing at his computer. "The details are hazy. I actually talked with Commissioner Decker today after I read it. He said the Titans were on the case as much as his men were."
Georgeton raised an eyebrow. "Decker called the prison today?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you didn't tell me?!?!"
"It was during your lunchbreak," Jefferson smirked while typing.
"Heheheheh…good boy," Georgeton sipped from his paper cup and looked back down at the headlines. "It frightens me to think what new sorts of criminal psychopaths were's gonna be shutting away into these cells once the prison is back to order."
Silence.
Jefferson's typing had stopped.
"Jefferson??" Georgeton said.
Silence.
He looked up.
The computer screen glared into emptiness.
The assistant warden was gone.
Georgeton raised an eyebrow. He looked around. "Jefferson??"
Silence.
"Where are you?"
Silence.
Georgeton paused. He slowly shuffled to the computer station.
Nothing.
"Rude…," he uttered. He threw his cup into a nearby bin, sighed, and headed towards the local hallway.
He opened a creaking metal door that screamed into the quietness of the West Wing.
He walked down a metal catwalk over the hall that—normally—would have been populated by hundreds of grunting, fighting, shouting, howling prisoners. But at that moment—with the relocation in effect—there wasn't a single soul in the metal beast of the prison. It was hauntingly quiet.
Dead silent.
Georgeton's feet clanked across the platform. He walked slowly. His hands in his pockets.
Halfway down the catwalk, he stopped.
He looked behind him.
Silence.
"Aren't there guards assigned to this post at this hour?" he spoke aloud to himself.
Even though the prisoners weren't there….he hadn't ordered for the guards not to be there.
Georgeton walked briskly down the rest of the catwalk—his feet clanking. He turned into a hallway and opened the door to a set of offices.
He rushed in, expecting to see a flurry of guards taking some sort of unorthodox break.
But there was no one. Not even the mandatory graveyard shift.
Empty.
Silent.
Georgeton's eyes squinted. He called in: "Hello??" A pause. "Henry?? Rodriguez??" A pause. "Anyone??"
His voice echoed against the flimsy walls and cubicles.
Silence.
Georgeton closed the door.
He was out in the hallway again.
His hand rested on the doorknob as he stared into nothingness.
In a flash, he spun and turned around him.
Nothing.
Silence.
His hair stood on end.
It felt oddly colder.
He swallowed and walked forward…unsettled by the sound of his clanking shoes against the frigid, tile floor.
A door at the end of the hallway appeared before him. The communications room.
He extended his hand out.
The door came to him.
He opened it.
He looked inside---and froze.
There the guards were. But it would serve them little justice to refer to them in the plural since. There the thing was….and the thing was a pile of twisted, bloody bodies all congealed together in a flurry of limbs like a human ball of yarn. But something was dripping from their wet, dripping mass of red. Right hands. Georgeton only had to look a few feet to the left to see a second ball of yarn; full of fingers.
CLANK!!!
Georgeton's twitching eyes jerked up.
There was Jefferson. His mouth hung open. His eyes bulged. He was floating in mid air and being slammed up against a glass window overlooking the prison cells. Blood trickled out of his 'levitating' body and shot diagonally downwards to the tile floor. The trickling blood was suddenly hidden when electrical sparks danced in mid air and a silver broadsword temporarily phased into visual existence and disappeared. There was a body there….a huge and hulking body in black. It blinked in and out of Georgeton's eyes. Holding Jefferson up.
The silver sword flickered again. There was an electronic growl…and suddenly Jefferson's body exploded down the middle with a flash of ivory.
SPLORTCH!!!
Blood shot out everywhere like a crimson grenade. It doused the mid-air, where a human figure appeared in scarlet. The scarlet pool of blood turned its 'head' at Georgeton and the whole body marched—flicerking—towards him.
Georgeton let out a silent scream, slammed the door closed, and backed up in the hallway—panting.
SLICE!!!
A silver sword jumped through the middle of the metal frame.
Georgeton spun around and pounded down the hallway on numb feet. There was absolute silence behind him. Regardless, he looked back and gasped at the sight of the hobbling shadow of red blood coming at him.
He turned around the corner and ran the length of the catwalk. His stepped too far to the right, struck a bar of the railing, and tripped him. He fell hard to the metal surface, breathlessly climbed back to his feet, and scampered forward like a poorly weighted missile.
He burst through the door to his office, looked hurriedly left and right, and found the first door appealing.
He ran—panting—to frame. He opened the door, swung his body through, and stood inside…slamming the door behind him.
WHAM!!!
The restroom.
Georgeton locked himself in and leaned his right hand on the doorknob as his whole body heaved in his lungs' effort to regain oxygen. He sweated profusely, and shook the droplets from his bangs.
THWACK!!!!
Suddenly, his right hand was gone…along with the whole doorknob.
"AAAAAAUGH!!" the chief warden clutched his limb to himself. His body spun, knocking the orange lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The room danced between amber and crimson as he slumped down the doorframe, looked up, and saw floating bloodstains in the shape of a human head glare down at him.
An 'eyelash' winked. And a solid sheet of silver sailed down over the man's head.
For a split second, Georgeton was graced with the odd sensation of extra peripheral vision when his face split in half and parted his eyes.
Then the circuits snapped.