A/N: Hey all! I had a sudden inspiration for this scene and decided to make it the start of the sequel to Primal Madness. Updates will be few and far between, but I will do my best to make them count. Hope you find it entertaining.

It has been five months since Terra's death and Ravager's defeat. Many things have changed since that day, and the world is no longer as familiar as it once was. For the Titans this could not be more true.

It was a sunny day in Cape Town. Detective Hector Callen would have enjoyed it if not for the fact that there was some sort of supervillain running around bombing nearby cities in South Africa. The fact that they were not ordinary bombs and that his sources informed him there may be a bombing in his city tonight kept him far from a jovial mood.

The detective didn't show it, but he was tired, three nights with hardly a wink of sleep trying to figure out what this villain's game was. He hadn't made any demands or anything, so what was his goal? What was he after? He sighed and ran a hand through his hair or lack thereof. He was a man in his mid-thirties, dark skin, brown eyes, lean build. Dressed in a light blue button-up shirt with a dark brown tie, black slacks and black dress shoes completed his outfit. In his right hand he held a stack of folders, which he clutched with a deathgrip.

Judging from what information he could gather, even if he found this bomber, he might not be able to stop him with the resources he had. Reports that he read told of a man wearing a blue mask, with strength no normal man should have. Bullets didn't seem to slow him down in the slightest and any resistance he met he had quickly crushed. And yet, Hector felt he couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

A frown began to stretch across Detective Callen's lips, he had sent Officer Nadia Vorum to pick up the one individual nearby who might be able to stop this madman. It was through a stroke of luck that his contacts were able to locate this individual. Still, it was a gamble, all that he had to go on with this person was the reports and information on the internet he was able to acquire. Officer Vorum had just contacted him a few minutes ago telling him she had the individual in custody and Hector was now on his way to the interrogation room that he was being held in.

The detective heard footsteps coming from his right, looking over he saw none other than Officer Vorum herself walking up to him. She had been with the police force for barely a year, but she had proven herself to be a good policewoman, tough and dependable. Her skin was lighter than his and she wore her usually shoulder-length dark brown hair in a bun. She was young and fit and her uniform showed wear and tear befit for a woman who was constantly active. She matched Hector's pace as they continued to walk down the hallway.

"Where did you find him?" Hector asked.

"About twenty miles Northeast of the city." Nadia answered. Hector let out a little whistle at that information.

"He put up any resistance?" The detective asked, Nadia shook her head.

"None." She verbally answered. Hector nodded, that was a good sign at least.

"Good work Officer Vorum. I'll take it from here." The detective complimented.

"Thank you sir." Officer Vorum replied steering away to continue her work. Leaving Hector alone, he continued down the hallway for a dozen more seconds before finally coming in front of the door to the interrogation room the stranger was held in. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and stepped in.

The room itself was dark, one lousy lightbulb that seemed to be getting dimmer by the second the only source of light. The higher-ups couldn't be bothered with fixing such trivial things though. The whole station was slowly falling apart, like a decaying animal in the desert, but they didn't care. The only furniture in the room was two chairs with cushions that have seen better days and a long steel table. One chair was empty, the one closest to him and would be his, the other was taken by the man he had Officer Vorum bring in.

Because of the damn poor lighting Hector couldn't get a good look at his face. The man wore a tattered brown robe with a hood, the hood further concealed his facial futures so that all Hector could see was darkness within it. Although he was wearing clothes underneath the robe, Hector couldn't tell exactly what they were, once again thanks to the dimly-lit room. The stranger was currently resting his right hand on the table while leaning back in the chair. The detective noticed that he was wearing a grey glove.

"Thirsty?" Hector asked the stranger. The hood moved slightly to face him.

"No." Was the stranger's reply. "So what law did I break to be brought in? Jaywalking?" He asked sarcastically. Hector waved his hand dismissively as he took his seat, placing the files on the table.

"Oh no. You did nothing wrong." Hector informed him, there was a moment of tense silence.

"Then why am I here?" The hooded stranger demanded. Hector sighed, time to get down to it.

"Well, we have a bit of a problem on our hands. I'm sure you've heard the reports of the bombings in Pretoria, Maseru, and Port Elizabeth right?" Hector asked.

"A little." The stranger responded.

"Well reports tell of a man in a blue mask, with capabilities no normal man would have. He's been sighted at every one of the bombings. Any idea who he is?" The detective questioned.

"None." Was the stranger's simple answer. Hector picked out a certain folder from his stack, gripping it with two hands.

"Have you seen what happens to the victims who survive the bombs?" Hector asked, sliding the folder across the table to the stranger. Who opened it with his right hand and began sifting through the pictures.

"They started to get red pigmentation on their skin, horns grew on their forehead, but worst of all, they became homicidal." Hector winced. "That is if they survived the extreme pain they were in." He finished.

"Have you contacted the Justice League? This probably falls under their thing." The stranger replied, Hector noticed there was a hint of bitterness in his voice when he mentioned the Justice League.

"They're too busy dealing with the "Big." Problems." Hector said, snorting in disgust. "Meanwhile many lives are being lost to this virus or whatever the hell it is." The detective leaned forward, crossing his arms and placing his elbows on the table, staring at the stranger intently. "We don't have the luxury of an abundance of superheroes here in Africa. Which is why we need your help." After a moment's hesitation he added, "Mr. Logan."

Silence, a long and uncomfortable silence followed. Finally, Garfield Logan closed the folder and slid it back to the detective.

"Too bad. I'm not a superhero anymore." Garfield stated. Hector's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I've read your file. About how some Justice League members tried to take you into custody because of the accidental murder of Terra Markov. How they chased you out of Jump City and forced you into hiding. " The detective told him, he saw Garfield visibly tense. "In my honest opinion the League are a bunch of arrogant pricks. Looking for crime in all the wrong places."

"What are you getting at Detective Callen?" Garfield inquired, interrupting him.

"What I'm trying to say is that I don't buy into all the bullshit the Justice League is trying to feed us about how you're some unstable monster who will kill again if you aren't stopped." Hector told him, his gaze intense "I believe you are a good person who still has the ability to do good things." The detective hesitated for a moment. "Help us Mr. Logan, help us stop this maniac before he kills again." He pleaded, this was it, the moment of truth.

Another long and tense silence ensued. Hector could tell that the man once known as Beastboy was considering his offer. He kept rubbing his thumb across his index finger, internally weighing his options. The detective could only hope those options were in his favor. Finally Garfield stood up.

"I'm sorry detective. The Mr. Logan you speak of is gone." Garfield informed him. "All I am now is just a man trying to live out the rest of his days in peace."

The former superhero started to make his way to the door. Hector frowned, he had hoped that he didn't have to pull his trump card, but he had no other choice now.

"There was a fourth attack last night." Hector announced, Garfield stopped in his tracks. "You're familiar with the Ivory Coast?" The hood that concealed the changeling's face turned towards him slightly.

"Intimately." Garfield stated. Hector picked up a different folder and slid it towards the former superhero, who hesitantly opened it and began sifting through the pictures.

"Approximately six hours ago a village on the ivory coast was bombed. The same masked suspect was there." Hector informed him. Mr. Logan seemed to only be half-listening though, his trembling fingers flipping through the pictures with greater and greater rapidity.

"No...this can't be..." Garfield said, his voice barely above a whisper, sounding horrified. Hector felt a twinge of regret, the pain in his voice was unmistakeable.

"Our sources have discovered that he plans to strike here in Cape Town sometime tonight. We aren't sure of the exact whereabouts but..." Hector never got to finish as Garfield broke the steel table in half with his right fist, the sound of steel hitting the floor resounded loudly in the interrogation room. The detective noticed that the changeling's eyes were now glowing yellow underneath his hood.

"I'll find him." Garfield snarled with such fury that Hector actually took a few steps away from him. The changeling then made his way to the door, as he opened it by ripping the door off it's hinges, Hector called out.

"Don't kill him! We need him alive for questioning do you understand?" The detective yelled to him. Garfield's back was to him and Hector noticed for the first time that the left sleeve of his robe hung empty at his side. So it was true, he had lost his arm. The hood that concealed the changeling's face turned so that his glowing left eye was staring at the detective.

"When I'm done with him, he'll wish he was dead." Garfield stated and with that he was gone, a brown blur moving down the hallway and out of one of the police station's open windows.

Hector sighed, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up, hopefully this wouldn't backfire on him.