"Chief Anderson Duffy speaking," said the voice through the Batmobile's intercom.

"This is Batman. I'm calling regarding the investigation you conducted with the missing boys."

"Oh! Batman! Right, well, just as you requested, we removed the remains and returned them to those who had families. The rest were cremated. If this is truly the work of Joker and Two-Face as you suspect, we will ultimately leave their capture up to you. I have assigned a team to look into their locations. With a month headstart, I can't guarantee we'll find them. They may even be back in Gotham."

"They aren't," he said definitively. "I have my sources. They haven't been seen in Gotham in months. I highly suspect they're still in Jump, laying low and trying to think of a new plan."

"Well, we'll let you know if we find anything, but they did a good job of clearing their tracks."

"Did you leave everything else where it was?"

"Just like you requested."

"Good. I'll let you know if I learn anything new."

"Good luck, Batman."

He ended the call, heaving a sigh of relief. Working with the Gotham PD was always a pain, and if Gordan wasn't on duty, it was damn near impossible. So when Jump PD was so cooperative, it was like a breath of fresh air.

He assumed their disposition was thanks to Robin.

The Batmobile pulled up to the building, the address that Cyborg had provided him with. Two dudes were having a smoke on the opposite street.

"Hey, you Batman?" One guy called.

Batman just looked at him as he closed his door.

"Like the real one?"

"Who wants to know?"

"You the one that's been catching the petty crooks and leaving love notes?"

"No. Just got into town."

The guy nudged his buddy. "See, told you it wasn't Batman."

"You guys smoke here often?" Batman asked.

"Fairly. Live upstairs." He threw his thumb at the building they were leaning against. "Why?"

"Ever see any freaks come out of this building?"

One guy, the larger of the two, dropped his cig and stomped it out, and then came closer to Batman so he could talk in a softer voice. "I mean no disrespect Batman, but everyone in this neighborhood makes it a point to mind their own business. It's not safe to witness anybody coming in or out of any place."

Batman grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. "I'm not asking about other people coming and going. I'm asking about a clown or a man with half his face burnt to a crisp. I don't give two shits about anything else."

"G-got it. Yeah, uh…I definitely saw those guys."

Batman set him down.

"It was a while back. Probably a month was the last time. They were noisy as hell. Always laughing. I heard gunshots a few times."

"Do you know where they went?"

"Sorry, I don't. But I always knew they were in when I saw a white utility van parked where you are now. Some electric company logo on the side that I can't remember. Oh, and the license plate started with 'A', if I remember that right."

Batman gave him a clap on the shoulder. "You've been very helpful."

"Don't mention it." He started walking back to his friend. "Seriously. Don't."

Batman went back to the parking space, scanning the ground for tire marks. Several prints came back, so he abandoned that idea.

Then he went to the backdoor that Cyborg had detailed in his report. It was unlocked, but he had a feeling anyone that tried to loot the building would quickly change their mind.

The torture room was worse in person. Blood everywhere. Horrible devices spread across tables and hanging on the wall. But no empty syringes, no notes, no journals. Nothing of use. Just enough information to paint a very ugly narrative of nineteen young men finding their doom, and one entering a torturous existence.

But perhaps the information he was looking for was never in this room to begin with. He scoured the building. Checking every room he passed.

He did find an office. There wasn't much that would allow him forward, but there were some documents left behind that would shed a little more light on the experiment.

Three piles of applications.

14 labeled as 'fodder'. This pile consisted of deeply disturbed and highly medicated individuals with conditions such as schizophrenia or other psychotic disorders.

Another pile of 5 were labeled 'true candidates'. This group had been hospitalized for violent episodes towards other minors or foster families. They all were diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder or Bipolar.

Then, there was one application in between the two piles labeled 'Control'. It was Robin's.

'This one has a strong moral code, despite his level of depression. He may help or hinder the experiment, but is not expected to last long.'

Batman couldn't help but snort. Neither Joker or Dent were scientists, and had no idea what they had gotten into.

It looked like these applications had come from the beginning of the project and that further documents had been taken wherever they had gone.

Then there was the basement. Those two rooms may not contain anything useful, but he was not doing his due diligence if he didn't at least check it out.

It took him a minute to find the ladder that Raven had mentioned, but soon he was able to let himself down to the dark, dank, hell mouth.

It still smelled foul, even without a body still hanging around. But it was a smell Batman had encountered before and knew how to deal with. A dab of Vick's in the nose, and he could handle being down here for a little while at least.

He checked out the containment room first.

There were some flies, still subsisting off of the putrid puddles on the floor. The Slade bot laid in a heap on the ground, broken to pieces.

As he moved around the room, he noticed tick marks on some of the walls, as evidently the boys were trying to keep track of how long they had been there.

He saw Starfire's name on the wall, written in blood.

He flipped the unsaturated mattresses, just checking for any hidden messages, but found nothing.

Nothing but grief.

So he moved on.

The room next door had housed the skulls of the other victims. The cards that had labeled the skulls remained in place, while the bones were gone. The knives on the workbench were in the same position as the photo.

Out of the three drums of sulfuric acid, one was gone. The two remaining were still factory sealed.

Batman made a call.

"Chief Anderson Duffy," said the voice on the other end of the line.

"It's Batman. What information did you glean from the drum of sulfuric acid that's gone?"

"Oh that. Forensics were on that. Let me see what they reported." There were some clacking of keys on the other end. "They found trace bone fragments in the acid. Says here that the acid didn't contain the sludge often left over from dissolving a body, let alone 18. They think that these sickos may have only dissolved a few parts of a small number of bodies, before deciding to do something else with the remains."

Batman growled, disgusted, frustrated, and angry.

These were all boys with full lives ahead of them. Boys that were taken advantage of because of where they were in life. Orphans, sick, vulnerable, impressionable. They could have been helped. They could have—

He tried not to dwell on that. They were gone, and it was his job to find out where they were taken.

I don't eat processed meat because I don't want to accidentally eat human meat.

At first, Batman had foolishly taken the statement at face value. Black said something insane, because that's what he was. It was shock value, it was delusional, it was paranoid…but now it made sense.

"I know where the other bodies were taken."

"Oh great! Just tell us where to look and we'll take care of it."

"Unfortunately, nothing is going to be recovered. I'm fairly certain they were cooked and fed to the other victims."

There was silence from the other line, Batman assumed shock. "...If that's what you think, we'll go with it for now. I would like proof though."

"I'll get you either a confession from the Joker or Dent, or a witness account from the survivor."

"You found the survivor?"

"Yeah. He's in treatment. His mental condition is very unstable and he has retrograde amnesia. It might be a while before he's able to talk about this incident."

Duffy was quiet for a while before admitting, "you've made more headway on this case in the two days you've been here than the four months we've been working it."

"Don't beat yourself up, Chief. I know how these two operate, and the clues they left were only going to be picked up by me."

"Well, at any rate, thank you for working with us. Now, if only we could make some headway in Robin's case."

Batman huffed. "Who do you think the survivor was?"

"What? Really? That's excellent! Well, maybe not, considering what you said about his mental state."

"You would do me a great favor if you closed that case and stopped thinking about it."

"Right. I'll pretend like I don't know anything. Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will." And he hung up.

There was a part of Batman that was frustrated with how messy this whole thing had gotten. Of course Robin was going to go undercover when he heard about this operation. Of course the easiest and least suspicious way to do so was to use the identity he used as a volunteer at the hospital.

He just hated that it led back to his real name, and now that name wasn't safe anymore.

He was less concerned that Richard Grayson be linked back to Bruce Wayne, because really, how uncommon was the name?

Emerging from the basement, he crossed over the threshold to the torture chamber and twitched in surprise when he saw a man sitting in the rigged dentist's chair.

It was not the half-faced mask he wanted to see.

"Ah, so that truly was the Batmobile out front. Interesting."

Batman observed this new foe quickly, taking in the armor, the physique, the posture, and lack of weapons.

"I have no business with you, Slade. But I suppose I could fit time into my busy schedule."

"You have heard of me. How nice. My old apprentice mentioned me?"

"No. My old friend mentioned a psychopath blackmailed him into stealing. I told him not to worry too much about a grown man that gets his rocks off bullying children."

Slade's eye narrowed. He tilted his head slightly, his expression completely hidden behind his mask. "So. What does the great Batman want in my building?"

"You own this block? I assumed it was abandoned."

"'Owned' is a…loose term. I acquired it, because no one wanted it. It serves its purpose to me."

"Ever rent it out?"

"No. Which is why I'm here. Heard someone was playing doctor while I was away."

"Taking a vacation?" Batman snipped.

"Something like that," Slade said casually. "I died. Did some sight-seeing in hell. Did some overtime during the apocalypse and got my flesh back. Then I spent several weeks trying to relearn how to walk." He shifted so his head rested on his fist. "And now I hear I missed out on a very interesting experiment…but why would that concern Batman so much to bring him all the way here?"

"Ever heard of the Joker or Two-Face?"

"I subscribe to Villains Monthly."

"Got jokes, do you?"

"I have a new lease on life Batman. Got a little more…pep in my step."

"I hope those steps lead you out of my way."

"You're very serious, aren't you? I see where Robin gets it from."

Batman just glared at him.

"In case you're wondering, I had nothing to do with whatever happened here. Frankly, I'm rather upset I wasn't invited. I have clean up to do, since your friends decided to make a mess. So if you wouldn't mind showing yourself out, that'd be just swell."

"Sure," said Batman. "But before I leave," he cracked his knuckles, "why don't I take the trash out?"

—-

Batman returned to the Titan's tower about an hour later, a limp in his step and blood on his uniform.

"Sir? Are you alright?" Alfred asked as he entered. The rest of the Titans were sitting around at the table, empty plates in front of them.

"Fine. Just…had a little altercation. Tore the stitching in my leg." He slid in next to Beast Boy, and leaned on his arms.

Raven was quick to go to him, and pressed a healing hand to his wound. "What happened?"

"I did a little investigating into that building where Robin was held, hoping for a lead to where Joker and Dent may have gone. Instead I ran into the building's owner."

Alfred placed a plate of Chicken Parmesan in front of him.

"...was the owner a tough dude?" Beast Boy asked, noticing the blood on his shirt was from his own nose.

He huffed, annoyed. He didn't really want to reveal all this to them for several reasons, but they needed to know. "Yeah, tougher than expected. He's a man by the name of Slade. Ever heard of him?"

Cyborg, who was on his fourth serving, nearly choked on his mouthful of pasta, while the other Titans gasped in horror.

"But he—" Starfire protested.

"Trigon resurrected him," Raven bit. "He was there in the final battle, and then he disappeared."

"Apparently, he had to relearn how to walk," said Batman, shooing Raven away from his leg. "I took care of him. He put up a fight, but I knocked him unconscious and delivered him to Duffy personally. That's why I'm late."

The Titans shared a look, all being slightly embarrassed that Batman had been able to do alone what they hadn't been able to do together.

"I can't imagine this is going to actually stop him, but I bought you some time." He finally started eating some of his dinner. "And he was tough, but definitely not ready to fight. I think he was still weak."

"Still, it's a little humiliating that you had to take care of our bad guy," Beast Boy winced.

Batman smirked slightly. "I have had daydreams about sending that bastard to the hospital. Robin told me all about what happened with that sham of an apprenticeship. Blackmailing him by infecting teens with nanobots that slowly and painfully kill them unless he does what he wants? Sounds like Arkham's next inmate." He took a drink of water. "But that's something to worry about later. How's Robin—or Black, I suppose?"

"He is unwell," Starfire looked over to the couch. For the first time, Batman noticed the boy was laying down, but was very still and quiet. "He did not eat dinner, and says…I believe the phrase was, 'his think meat was thrown against a wall'?"

"That's not a real metaphor," Beast Boy offered. "That's just his brand of stupidity."

"Well, he's making jokes, so he's doing alright for now," Batman argued. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him. Right, Robin?" He asked a little louder, so he could hear him.

The other boy didn't answer for a really long time, but the team was quiet and listened if either Black or Robin would respond.

Then, in the quiet of the room, with only the hum of the air system and a ticking clock on the wall, he sang. It was in his pathetic falsetto, with a scratchy tone. Up until now, Black's songs had really depressing lyrics, but he had delivered them joyfully. This time, the song was far too sad.

"I am…the only one that got through. The others died wherever they fell."

Starfire floated up from where she was seated and rested on the couch beside him, petting his head gently.

"It was an ambush…they came up from all sides."

Batman set his silverware down quietly and listened very closely.

"Give your Masters each a gun and then let them fight it out themselves."

Beast Boy swallowed thickly, biting his tongue. Black had changed the lyrics.

"I've seen demons coming up from the ground. I've seen hell upon this Earth."

Raven closed her eyes as the image of that corpse came to mind against her will.

"The next will be chemical…but they will never stop."

Alfred turned his back, hiding his face.

Once silence reigned for more than a minute, it was clear that the message was over.

"He changed the lyrics," both Batman and Beast Boy said.

"The song is 'In Memory of Harry Patch'," Batman elaborated. "He changed 'give your leaders' to 'give your masters' and 'they will never learn' to 'they will never stop'."

"What do you suppose he was trying to say?"

"Maybe he thought Dent and Joker turned on each other? Or perhaps they're going to try this again?" Batman mused aloud.

Black sat up from the couch, and they could already see the faint veins standing out against his pale skin. "Can I have one of dem Gumby skittles?"

"No," Batman said, not blinking an eye. "We're not giving you any medicine for a while, because we need a clean blood test."

Black frowned and turned to Starfire. "You said that if I was ever in pain I should come to you, because you don't like to see me in pain."

Starfire hunched her shoulders, feeling guilty. "You are right, but I cannot give you the medicine you require. Perhaps a shoulder massage will help?"

He stood, stretching. "No. I think I'll just go lay down in bed for a while, where it's dark and quiet."

Batman swirled some noodles around on his fork. "Alright, we'll check on you in a little bit."

Black nodded in understanding and left the ops room. He only stopped into his room for a moment to grab his trenchcoat, before escaping quickly to the hall, and then to the underground access tunnel.

Thank goodness for fingerprint scanners.