This story was originally written in 2014, when I graduated High School. Recently, my husband got me interested in the Batman Arkham Asylum games, and I wanted to reread my fics.

This one was particularly bad, but had an intriguing plot, so I decided to rewrite most of it.

Hope you enjoy!

(Also available on Ao3)

Robin had been missing for three months. One day he went out on patrol, and never came back. There was no evidence or clues to his whereabouts. Just a message to their communicators, "I have a lead. I'll be home later." He in fact, wasn't home later. The hours drew on, and then days. They never knew what his lead was, or who he was investigating. That was his fatal flaw, having secrets from his team. And this time, it ended him, at least, that was the horrible conclusion they had come to.

His picture appeared on the news for weeks, the population frightened that the leader of the team was gone.

The Titans had looked everywhere for Robin, even going so far to reach out to Batman in Gotham city, but to no avail. The powerless hero was gone, perhaps for good, and the city seemed like such a darker, sinister place.

Outside the tower, the Titans did their best to pretend that they could still handle themselves without him. But back at home, things were different. They missed him. More often than not, the team would separate and do their own thing. It was easier not to notice who was missing if they weren't together.

But they always had dinner together. Conversation was usually absent, and to fill the silence, the news would play.

"It's been several months since Teen Titans leader, Robin, disappeared without a trace. In the last few months, it seemed like Jump City picked up the slack. A number of amateur vigilantes have done their best to put an end to needless crime in our fair city. Criminals of all varieties have ended up at the police station, either walked in by people wearing cheap masks, or anonymously bound on the steps with a note on their person. The phenomenon has had mixed reception."

The shot changed to show the Chief of Police, Anderson Duffy, talking at a press conference. "While the sentiment surrounding the efforts of these vigilantes is appreciated, the actual work of crime fighting should always be left to the professionals, be it the police or the Titans. What these well intentioned folks are doing is creating a problem farther down the pipeline. Without confessions, many of these petty criminals end up right back on the street."

Beast Boy groaned. "Dude, it's the same stuff every day. I don't care about these petty criminal vigilantes! Let them do what they want!"

"Beast Boy, vigilantism is against the law. The only reason we get to do it is because Batman set a precedent and we have an agreement with the police and Mayor."

"Yeah yeah, I know, but ever since…you know, these shady dudes think it's free reign to loot the city. Makes us look bad."

"You could start patrolling more often," Cyborg smirked. "If it bothers you that much."

Beast Boy groaned again. "I hate that you're right 'cause I don't wanna!"

"Since the press conference from Chief Duffy, the rate of vigilantism in the city dropped drastically, but not entirely. Still, on a near hourly basis, the police are receiving criminals ducted taped with a note explaining what got them captured. Each note is signed with the letter 'B' and a heart. No one knows who Mr. B Heart is, but theories about Batman being in town are circulating."

"Dude, the idea of Batman signing a note with a heart is so funny."

Cyborg scoffed at the TV. "These people see the Batmobile drive through town once and now they think he lives here."

"Another notable difference in the criminals turned in by Mr. B Heart is the injuries they sustained. Nearly all of them have to be hospitalized. Perhaps that serves as a warning for the other crooks out there? If you aren't scared of prison, perhaps be scared of the hospital!"

Raven turned the channel, not caring about what was on now. "I have had enough. Let them theorize."

Starfire sat quietly at her end of the table, scooting a brussel sprout around her plate.

"What's wrong, Star? You love strange round food." Cyborg asked, already knowing the problem.

"Hey! My brussel sprouts are not strange!"

She gave them a half hearted smile and stood. "I simply no longer have an appetite."

"Are you going back to the office?" Raven asked. "Are you sure you should?"

Starfire shrugged. "I am unsure. But if there is a clue to his whereabouts, it would be in his notes."

"Good luck," Beast Boy said sincerely. "I could barely read his chicken scratch."

"Could you simply not change into a chicken to read it?"

The team smiled, as Raven answered. "He means bad handwriting."

"Oh. Of course. I should have known."

One thing was for sure, even Raven was out more often than Starfire was. She was hurt the most by his disappearance. Robin was her counselor, her guide to this world that she didn't understand. He was her best friend, and she loved him very much.

—

It was Cyborg's turn for patrol duty. Normally, he'd drive the T-car around and ask some questions to people, check in on businesses; but tonight, he just wanted some fresh air. He parked downtown, in a safer place for his precious car, and then walked to a less than friendly part of town.

The streets were not so crowded. Especially of late. News of the amateur vigilantes had done enough to dissuade some of petty criminals, but the initial boom of petty criminals discouraged late night walks by civilians. It was a vicious cycle.

Cyborg walked the main streets, tuning his radio to pick up cell phone frequencies. When phones picked up certain keywords, he'd hear it. He had to have discernment, as most crooks were going to say outright 'I'm selling cocaine' or 'I just robbed that store'.

But Cyborg had been in the business long enough to know what to listen for.

"Is that it?"

"It doesn't look like much, but it's way more potent than the other stuff."

Bingo! Cyborg checked his computer. The frequency was coming from a block away, in between some buildings. He made his way there, quietly.

"How much?"

"120 per gram."

"Oh you're shittin' me. No way."

"Like I said. This stuff is potent. 10 grams of this is like a kilo of heroin."

"No kidding? Is it cut with anything?"

"Nah, I'll let you do that yourself."

Cyborg reached the alley, the map on his arm indicating that these two were around the corner and down a floor, where the street descended for basement access. He snuck closer, recording the conversation.

"How many grams you got on you?"

"Just one, cut in halves."

"So 60 per bag?"

"Yeah. Cash or credit?"

The other guy laughed. "You take checks?"

"Man, get out of here."

"Here's 60. I'll take a half."

There were just two guys. One smaller than the other, but the bigger guy was huge, probably the same size as Cyborg. But of course, he didn't have cybernetic enhancements. Just as he was about to break up the deal, a shadow dropped from above and knocked the smaller thug out.

"What the hell?!" The 'roided out thug shouted.

The figure quickly turned on the thug and tried to knock him out. It was a teenager, and he expertly dodged and weaved every swing the big guy threw. Cyborg watched for a moment, waiting to get involved, but wondered if perhaps this was one of the vigilantes from the news.

The thug growled, "stand still you little maggot!"

"It's not nice to call people names!" The young man sang. Then he threw a solid punch to the thug in the face, knocking him off balance. Then in a few more precise, bone rattling punches, the thug was unconscious.

Impressed, Cyborg stayed hidden for a moment as the kid riffled through the thug's pockets, and took some money.

"Hey kid, that's stealing," Cyborg announced, coming into view.

The kid turned to look at him. He was wearing all black. Black jeans with large holes in the knees and thighs, mismatched black boots, a black, raggedy trench coat over a black v-neck tee. His hands had fingerless gloves. His black hair was shaggy, and cut short on one side of his head. The kid shook his hair from his face and stared at the Cyborg with wild blue eyes and an eerie smile. More than any of his features, his smile struck Cyborg to the core. On the right side of his face, from the crease of his mouth almost to his ear, a gruesome, angry scar jogged across his face.

"Did you need this?" He held out the bills in a fist.

"No. Put it back."

"It's drug money!" The kid shouted, suddenly becoming defensive. He clutched the money to his chest. "When he comes to, he'll just use it to get high or buy a prostitute! I need it to eat!"

"Okay, calm down...but did you have to take him out?"

"Most people couldn't. I'm the exception. That's what heroes do. It's all I know." The kid said, his smile widening. "Besides, he's a punk. Been having trouble with him around here, selling fentanyl. Won't be a problem for long. Go ahead, look in his pockets. I'm right."

Cyborg shivered. The conviction this kid held was intense. "What's your name kid?"

"My name is Black, but you can call me Black. I really don't remember my name, or much of anything, but that's what they call me."

"Uh…well, I can see why..." He surveyed the kid's duds. "Listen...you can't just go around and beat people up. Even if they are selling drugs. That's what we're for. You're still stealing, even if he's a criminal. Got any friends or family around here?"

"Don't know."

"How do you not know?"

Black chuckled weakly and pointed to his head. "It's a little fuzzy up here." Then he did a couple of flips before landing right in front of Cyborg, foot extended.

Cyborg became defensive, and opened his cannon as a threat.

Black simply tilted his head. "Where's your hand, homie?"

Cyborg grit, "Don't. Move."

"I was only offering a handshake," Black wiggled his foot.

Cyborg studied the boy, taking in his ratty appearance and disheveled clothes. He realized that this kid wasn't pretending to be crazy, but likely was some sort of psychotic. As a sign of good will, Cyborg dropped his cannon and shook his foot.

Black flipped around, landing back on his feet. "So who are you supposed to be?" He cocked his head.

"You don't know?" Cyborg asked, perplexed.

The strange boy shook his head.

"I'm Cyborg, temporary leader of the Teen Titans."

"Teen Titans? What? Is that a gang or something?"

Cyborg laughed. "No, we're a band of superheroes. You know, protecting the city from evil villains?"

"Oh." Black crouched. "Well, that's what I do! Am I a superhero?"

"I wouldn't say that…" he scratched his head. "Look, we see all kinds of wanna be vigilantes around here trying to be the next Batman. We've seen them and we keep tabs on them. You though…you're new. And you should know what you're doing is not legal…especially since you don't have permission from the city…"

The boy looked mortified. "You have to have permission to do good around here?!"

Cyborg grimaced, "no…just…" he sighed. "You can't go around beating people up. Okay?"

Black pouted. "I don't understand. I'm only hurting the bad people."

"And who are you to judge whether they're good or not? That's not your job."

"And so what's going to happen if I stop taking out the pimps and drug dealers? Are you going to? Are the police?"

Cyborg felt hurt. "Well, the police can't do anything without solid evidence, and we…are busy with emergencies."

Black stuck out his tongue. "So, therefore, I believe I should be able to deal with these punks. After all…" he kicked a stone on the ground. "Got nothin' else better to do."

Cyborg rubbed the back of his head. He tried to be subtle, but he opened the computer on his arm and performed a vital sign scan on Black. "What kind of crime are you fighting? And how are you doing it?"

"Let's see…I've dropped drug deals, maimed some muggers, busted some burglars, and stopped a stabber."

"You beat 'em up? Like that guy?" He gestured to the thug still unconscious on the ground.

"Yep! Then I duct tape their hands and drag 'em outside of the police station with a love note pinned to them." He pulled out a roll of duct tape from his pocket. "Totally legal!"

"It totally isn't." Cyborg snorted. According to his quick scan, this kid's vitals were fine and normal. He didn't appear to be tripping or anything.

Just an eccentric teenager with some cognitive impairments.

"Do you go to school?"

Black shook his head.

"Do your parents know you're out here doing this?"

"Don't got any."

"Oh…Sorry to hear that."

Black shrugged. "Well, I might. Maybe me mum and me da are out there somewhere."

"You really don't know?"

"Nopers!"

"Why don't you come with me, and we'll see if we can find someone who knows who you are, okay?"

Black stuck his pinky in his ear, seemingly considering it. Then his wrist beeped. "Uh oh! Look at the time! I gotta poop! Bye bye Cyder!"

"Hey wait!"

"I will protect this city! Agent Black! Over and out!" He stuck his fists out in front of him and ran away, making 'whoosh' noises.

Cyborg sighed hard, feeling rather depressed after the encounter. "This city is making everyone go insane." Then he cringed. "Damn kid took the money too."

—-

Beast Boy had patrol the next night. He was working on the east side, the ghetto. He was looking in windows, in the form of a cat, for suspicious activities.

Suddenly, a hand nabbed him and lifted him off the ground. "A green cat. A blue rat. A polka dotted purple bat!"

Beast Boy shifted back into a human and fell out of his captor's grasp. "Dude!" He came face to face with a boy, maybe a year older than him, hanging upside down from a fire escape. The boy wore all black and had a gnarly scar on his face. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hanging out!" He cleaned his ear with his pinky. "I'm on patrol."

"Patrol? Oh man, are you one of those wannabe vigilantes? Duuuude go home!"

"Why are you green? Did someone add green dye to your soap? Are you an artist? I bet your favorite color is green. What are you doing here?"

Beast Boy blinked. "Are you high?"

"I'm higher than you are...I'm probably taller than you, too." He gestured to the general area.

Beast Boy groaned. "I mean, have you had any drugs or alcohol this evening?" He tried to exert some authority.

"Nope...I had a cheeseburger and a Dr. Pepper at six o'clock. But that..." He rolled up his sleeves and looked at the various watches on his arms, about a dozen. "...Was a very long time ago."

Beast Boy was thrown off balance by this kid. There wasn't a person in Jump that didn't recognize the only green person in the city. Maybe this kid was new in town? "Um...what's your name?"

"My name is Black, but you can call me Black. But I don't like black, I like red. And green. And sometimes yellow, when I feel like it. Black's not a bad color, it just is dark. Scary things hide in the dark. Like clowns." He blanched.

"Nice to meet you. Now, I have to finish my rounds. I wanna get home for movie night. You dig?"

"For gold? Often." Black rubbed his nose. "What's your name, Jolly Green?"

"Beast Boy. You new in town?"

"Don't know. Are you friends with that really tall metal-y guy?"

"Cyborg? Yeah, he's my best friend. Did you see him?"

"Yep, I saved him from a mugger, last night," Black said proudly, his face turning red from hanging upside down.

"You saved him?"

"D'Naawwww, I took down a mugger though. Wait, I think it was a drug dealer. Anyways, the robot man was just there. He tried to tell me to stop fighting crime. Psh, I'm the hero!"

Beast Boy sighed. It was always sad to see someone trapped in a hero fantasy. "Hey Black, um...feeling like...letting me join you on your 'patrol'?"

Black put a finger to his chin. "I don't know. You kinda cramp my style. Green and black and purple? You look like the one lady from the one movie by that one guy."

"That narrows it down."

"No no, it's a big one. A cartoon, with a Princess that sleeps a lot."

"Are you talking about the witch from Sleeping Beauty?"

Black snapped his fingers. "Nope, I got it. The Shining."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You know, the one in the Hotel with Richard Nixon?"

"Jack Nickleson?" Beast Boy gawked.

Black shrugged. "I guess you had to be there."

Beast Boy shook his head, "You're crazy, dude."

"And yet, you're the one who's green."

Beast Boy scoffed. "I didn't choose to be green, if that's what you're insinuating!"

"Oh, you didn't? I'm sorry. I heard it's not easy being green."

"Oh har har. Haven't heard that one before."

Black pouted and rested his hands on his hips. "You're a stick in the mud."

"Am not! I'm hilarious!"

"Doubt it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patrol to finish. I wanna get home for movie night." He effortlessly flipped up the fire escape, twisted free and swung up the scaffolds to the roof.

"Hey! That's my line! Hey!"

But by then, Black was gone.

Oh well. Beast Boy was sure he'd run into him again. "Weird kid."

—-

In mid afternoon, Cyborg sat at the kitchen table with a stack of reports. Usually, this was Robin's job, but with him gone…

The Titans often traded this duty, but Cyborg was the best at it, so he did it more often than not.

A video call came in, and Beast Boy paused his video game to answer it.

"Heeeeey Duffy!" Beast Boy greeted the Police Chief. After the look the Chief gave him, he cleared his throat and corrected himself, "Ah, hello Chief Duffy."

"Titans," the Chief said curtly. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have a question for Cyborg regarding the fentanyl dealers you turned in two days ago."

Cyborg looked up from his report. "Sure thing, Chief."

"In the recording you gave us, Mr. Alexander states that he has two half grams of Fentanyl to sell to Mr. Hartline. But as we took inventory and booked them, we only found one bag. Did you happen to take it for evidence and forget to turn it in?"

"No, I turned in everything at once. Did you check to see if he was lying on the recording?"

"The punk has a chip on his shoulder. Swears up and down he had two bags, and that someone stole from him and is trying to sell his supply."

"I'm sorry Chief. Maybe it fell out of his pocket. Half a gram isn't that big. It may have gotten lost in the shuffle."

"I'm sure you're right. Thank you."

Cyborg should have thought about it more, but these reports weren't going to fill out themselves.

—-

Raven had Wednesday night patrol. She never minded patrolling. Sure, there are lots of things she would have rather been doing, but it was usually peaceful and quiet.

Usually.

She hovered over a rooftop of a church. "Hello," said a deep voice. "So glad you could make it. I've been expecting you."

Raven turned rapidly to see a young man perched on a gargoyle, smiling wickedly at her. The long bottom of his raggedy coat fluttered in the wind. Suddenly, he fell off and kicked his legs in the air, laughing jovially.

"Your face!" He shouted. "You should have seen it."

"Kid, you're messing with the wrong girl."

Her threat seemingly fell on deaf ears as he reclined on the stone. "Is that your natural hair color?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yes..." She exasperated.

"Purple's a nice color. Usually purple and blue clash, but you pull it off."

"Uh thanks." She said flatly. "What are you doing all the way up here? You're trespassing."

"Chatting with some friends. Right Hugo?" He patted the gargoyle. Then he laughed. "He's such a card!"

Raven took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to get nasty with a civilian, no matter how stupid or annoying they were. "Right, well, I have a job to do. So unless there's a crime you need to report–"

"Oh, like the guy that almost raped that girl in the alley?" He pulled out a candy bar that was already opened. "Took care of it. Did you know that duct tape is the greatest invention ever? Anyways, the girl, Annie, is in the church with the Padre, along with half of my candy bar." He looked at the wrapper dismally.

Raven looked at him in shock. "You stopped an assault?"

"And how! I'm the hero of Jump City, didn't you know?"

"What's your name?"

"My name is Black, but you can call me Black. Despite my name, I'm white. And this," he held up the candy bar. "This is milk chocolate. Not that I don't like dark chocolate...actually, I don't like dark chocolate. White chocolate is okay, but yes. What was I saying?"

Raven shook her head, this kid was giving her a headache. "Do you live around here?"

"Uhhhhhhhh yeah, sometimes. I've got a couple of holes I burrow in."

Her irritation waned slightly. "You're homeless?"

"Oh! I don't know."

"...you don't know..." She droned.

"I mean like, if home is where the heart is, then your real home is in your chest." He bit into the chocolate. "You ask some strange questions."

That was it. This young man was clearly unwell. She closed her eyes and prepared to enter his mind. "Azarath … metrion … zinth-"

"Ohh! Are you casting a spell? On a church? Are you a bad guy? Do I need to beat you up?"

She kept her eyes closed, attempting to focus. "No. I'm going to read your mind. I need to evaluate your mental state."

"Okay! What am I thinking about?!"

Raven shook her head to rid the images of pink fluffy bunnies. "Look! Knock it off! Who are you, really?!"

"I told you, I'm Black, hero of Jump city! And if you don't mind, you've been extremely rude." He curled his lips and scrunched his nose. "Who. ARE. YOU?" He spoke with an English accent and excessively rolled his 'R's.

"They call me Raven. I'm with the Titans."

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore…"

"No, no no." She snapped. "I'm going to stop you right there. As much as I love that poem, I've heard the joke a few too many times. So, no thank you."

Black pouted. "I have the whole thing memorized and everything."

"Perhaps I'll indulge you another time," she offered a patient but not entirely friendly smile.

"I look forward to it, Mrs. Magpie!" He saluted. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to beat up a janitor!" And he ran and jumped off the roof. Raven raced to the edge, staring back in shock. Black was hanging from a water spout below. "Oh, by the way, he's not really a janitor, that's just his cover. Agent Black! Protecting the peace! Away ho!" He swung out and caught a ledge, and maneuvered his way down the side of the building like he had done it a hundred times before.

Raven shook her head. It was a little sad to see someone so young act like such a lunatic. Perhaps they'd cross paths again.

—-

Back at the tower, Raven came into the common room where the boys were watching a movie. Starfire looked dismally out the window. Raven sighed and made some tea.

Cyborg paused the movie. "Hey Raven, how did it go?"

She went to the kettle that someone had kindly started for her. "It was fine until I ran into some weird kid. Said his name was Black. He didn't give me any trouble, just a headache."

Beast Boy hopped up to his knees to look at her. "Wait, teenage boy? Dressed in all black? Wicked scar on his face? Did he say he was a hero?"

"Yo! I totally saw that kid!" Cyborg exclaimed. "Totally nuts!"

"You saw him too?" Raven asked, eyebrows raised.

Starfire looked in interest.

"Yeah, he beat up some punk in the narrows," Cyborg explained.

"He actually beat someone up? I thought he was full of hot air. I saw him in an alleyway," said Beast Boy.

"I met him at a church. Said he had just stopped an assault on a young woman. Didn't seem all that shaken up about it though."

"What an odd coincidence that you would all run into the same person," Starfire mused as she came over.

"Strange thing is, the more I thought about it, I could have sworn I've met him before." Cyborg scratched his head. "He seemed so familiar. But when I looked him up in our records, I didn't find anything."

"I swear I'd remember someone that cuckoo for cocoa puffs." Beast Boy scoffed.

"To be fair," Raven slightly smirked. "He wasn't as cuckoo as some of the other crazies we come across."

"Who knows? You might get to meet him next, Star."

—

It happened at the docks. Starfire had just finished staking out the North pier, where drug deals or gang initiations often happened. There were none tonight. It was actually rather quiet. The weather was pleasant, and the water was calm. There were even a few visible stars, despite the light pollution.

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?" A familiar voice spoke. Starfire, in her excitement, turned around, expecting Robin, but instead, a young man at the same age was lying like a board on a wave breaker. "They should take a picture of you and put it in an art museum." He stated, staring at the sky.

"Oh, thank you." She blushed.

"What? Oh no, I was talking about the moon."

Starfire frowned.

"But you're not so bad. You could be on a billboard."

She blushed again. "Thank you."

"You don't thank someone for a compliment like that."

She opened her mouth to question him, but shut it instead.

He rolled over to look at her, and scrunched up his face. After about a minute, he let out a long hum and then said, "nope, nothing."

"Excuse me?"

"You seem familiar, like somebody I used to know," he sang that last bit to the tune of the song.

"Oh?" She asked, hovering next to him, not catching that he was making a reference. "What was she like?"

"I don't know! I used to know her! I'm pretty sure she was beautiful though, and I think I might have loved her. Maybe I still love her."

Starfire examined the boy's clothes, and then noticed the scar by his mouth that Beast Boy had mentioned, despite the lighting.. "Are you...Black?"

"Girl, I'm as pale as the day is long."

"Please do not confuse me. I meant your name."

"Oh...Yep, but you can call me Black. I was taking a break from my patrol. Being a hero is hard business."

"You are a hero?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm undercover."

"You seem...odd."

"Only to normal people. Tell me, are you normal?"

"I don't think so...I am not of Earth after all."

He sat up. "An alien! Gadzooks! Can you fly? Do you have super strength? Can you shoot lasers from your eyes? What's your favorite color? Where do you reside? Are you allergic to carrots? Will you be my friend? Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, yes, yes, orange, Titans Tower, no, of course, and no."

He leaned closer.

She rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. "I believe I said you could not kiss me."

"I'm not gonna kiss you."

"What do you call this then?"

Their noses were almost touching. "Close talking."

She pushed him away, gently though, aware of her strength. "Um, will you please tell me your name?"

"I did. It's Black." He cocked his head.

"Your real name."

He shrugged. "Don't know it."

"You don't?"

"Nope! Not a single solitary clue!"

"But-"

"You know, I asked some people about it before. One guy said I'm a psychopath. Another said Schizophrenic. I think I'm just lactose intolerant."

"Were any of those people professionals?"

"Yeah, professional buttheads."

"Perhaps I could help you? We have resources to help with cognitive impairments! We offer it to some of our villains."

"Nah, I'm good. Just missing some memories. I figure they weren't all that important if I lost 'em in the first place. Right now I'm working on making new memories and friends." He pouted like a kicked puppy. "I don't have many friends yet. Just this really tall robot guy, a green kid that can shape shift, and a very grumpy mind reader with purple hair."

"Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven!"

"You know them?"

"Yes, they are my best friends."

He pouted. "No! They're my best friends!"

"Black, we can share friends."

"That sounds like a reasonable deal. Your eyes remind me of grass."

The sudden topic switch gave her whiplash. "Thank…you?"

"Do you have a name?" He asked.

"Yes, my name is Starfire."

"Geez, I didn't ask what your name was, just if you had one!"

"Oh, my apologies?"

"You're welcome." He did a handstand and walked around. "It's a nice name though. Reminds me of...toothpaste."

"Tooth…paste…? In what way?"

"It's a shiny name. I'm allergic to carrots. They make my tummy feel icky. But sometimes I can eat them when they're in soup. Just kidding, I've never had carrots in soup."

Based upon what her friends had said about this boy, he seemed unwell. This conversation only cemented that fact. Starfire was concerned, as she would be for any civilian. "Do you have a home?"

"I live in a hat. I'm not a rabbit though, my ears are too short and I can't eat carrots, as stated previously."

"What do you mean you live in a hat?"

"There's an old hat warehouse on the south side of town. I live in the big ol' hat on top with my pet pigeon. I named him Frankie 'cause he doesn't like chocolate."

"I do not follow."

"Frank Sinatra didn't like chocolate."

"Oh! He is named after a person! I have a pet worm named Silkie." Starfire smiled.

"That's wonderful! You have a worm, I have a bird! It's like we're bestest buds already!" He popped up to his feet. "Welp, I best be leaving. Gots to find me a criminal."

"Wait! You're leaving just like that?!"

"Crime never sleeps!"

"But–!"

He did a triple backflip and landed on his feet. "Boobies, weenies, and underwear! Sometimes I'm naked but I don't care! Agent Black, over and out!" And he took off running.

She had to report this to her friends. He gravely needed help.