Chapter 5

The image tore at me. Robin, crumpled on the floor. The floor around him looked like someone had spilled some thick red punch, and the thought of it made my stomach lurch in pain.

I didn't want to look at Robin anymore.

"My healing powers…something's hindering them. Something's wrong…they're working, but not as well as they should be," Raven said, but the voice was quieted by the voices of the random thoughts in my mind.

Second casualty…

Didn't he deserve it?

No…not the Boy Wonder.

…Blundered…

Red Robin…Red Robin…Red Robin…

I felt my stomach sinking and my spine freezing. It couldn't be happening…it just couldn't.

I felt a jolt of pain in my mind and I crumpled to the floor.

---

My consciousness went off, not entirely, but enough for me to hear and smell but not think.

The noise was a low humming voice, emanating from all across the place. The scent…I had been many animals who knew had been given the gift of smell. It smelled like death, cold chemicals that burned and played general havoc with the nose.

My eyes opened, along with my thoughts. I was on a comfy but hardy object, and as my vision cleared, I realized it was a couch. I was in a beige-colored waiting room with a couple snack machines, some old magazines and my friends, sitting in chairs of their own. If you ever see a 6 foot cyborg sitting in a reclinable chair, you're probably insane…or me.

"Beast Boy…you had passed out. We were all very worried."

That speech thing was getting annoying.

"Why…am I…here?" I asked drowsily.

"If you mean here as opposed to a hospital room, it wasn't important enough. It was a system shock, yeah, but it was a natural reaction to the situation, and you handled it pretty well." Cyborg looked confident, but I frowned. Sure. I only fainted in shock. Aren't I just the spitting image of composed?

"Alright…what about Robin?"

"He's…alright. He's in trouble, though. There was some kind of poison in the bomb that's stopping the healing. We need an antidote, and soon," Raven replied.

One of the machines in another room beeped, and I glanced around the guest room. The place was desolate, if someone could say that about a waiting room. Everyone was quiet for some time.

"We should really go back to Titans Tower," Raven admitted. "There's nothing we can do right now."

There was another silence, and I spoke up.

"Sure…but I have to go somewhere first."

---

It was dark out now, about eleven o' clock. I didn't really care, though.

The cruel night tore at me, taking vicious swipes occasionally. I still ignored it. As I've said over and over, I have suffered worse. So had the people around me, mainly because they were all six feet under. The wind went by, and I walked to the grave. There was no one under it, which was different from most plots.

All the other gravestones looked like a grey, moving mass in the wind. Except for this one. A sharp pain jabbed my chest, one that wasn't caused by any swords or claws. It was me. I was broken, as I always had been since she had left.

I wasn't finished. Empty. The words burned into my eyes. There was no birth date, only one of death. No last name, no past…just a name we didn't even know was real, and a meaningless inscription that was worth about as much as the dirt I was standing on. It took me several more seconds of thought before I realized there was someone standing right next to me.

"Who's there?"

I turned to the man next to me. He was reaching his early fifties (or appeared so), grey hair on his goatee and mustache. His eyes glittered, or, perhaps more menacingly, his eye. The other was simply a black eye-patch. When I looked at him he seemed to take no notice of me, just looking down at the stone in front of him. It dark black, speckled with grey. Inscribed on the stone, in an arch, was the name "Jericho Wilson".

"Another mourner," the man said. His voice sounded oddly familiar, and he smiled. "The famous Beast Boy, I presume? I've heard about what happened to your friend Robin…it's awful."

"How do you know about that?" I demanded. "The press hasn't even found out yet."

"I know a lot of things, Garfield. Too many, one could say. I know all about you. Robin. Raven. And the rest of your friends. I have many sources which I use regularly, although I have…retired."

There was no orange and black mask, but I could see it just the same as shadows cast on his weary face. He chuckled sadly. "You're wondering what I'm doing here? I simply wanted to mourn, to talk…and to make a deal."

I just looked blankly at him. Of all of the things that could happen in the world, this was the one I'd least expected.

"You…killed Terra," I barely managed to say.

"One of the things I wanted to talk about. I've seen death many times in this unnaturally long life of mine. My daughter…my two sons. My wife. And my adopted daughter, Terra. It's not something one can easily live with, but I've managed something close enough to life for me to be slightly comfortable.

"You loved Terra, in a way I could never love anyone. You took care of her, pulled her from me and saved her soul. I owe you."

"So, what, are you a new man after being killed twice? Did it hurt?" I added maliciously.

"Oh…yes it did." He spoke as if it were a joke. "But not as much as living the way I have been for all these years."

"You're twisted."

"And I don't know that? Speaking of which, you're well on your way to becoming as insane as I am. You're being consumed by bitterness. For one, I don't want to see any whipper-snappers becoming mass murderers like me. My point? I don't think I have one, except for this: Hatred is your worst enemy. It took me thirty-nine years for me to learn that, and I've gone blind. Really, kid. You've got a lot more going for you than you think."

He smiled half-heartedly, pulling something from the suitcase he was carrying. The mask slipped on to his face, and the nameless man became Slade once more.

"Down to business. You and your little friends have been being hunted by an assassin I have heard of, one of the best."

"Quake," I said, filling it in.

"No one knows much about Quake…except for me." Slade held a small disc, shining in the little moonlight that there was. "This is an entire record of the assassinations Quake has made. It might give you the clues you so-desperately need."

"What's the price?"

"I want you to delete my profile on the Titans database. Make it look like I did it. That's all I ask."

My stomach nearly exploded with anxiety. I wanted to shout out that I would never do it. I wanted to kick him in the back of the head and beat him to death. But I also wanted revenge. For Robin. For Terra. For me.

"Deal."