Leslie’s game system allowed for a party limit of six.
Himself, and five other people or potentially self-animated things.
Such as robots and golems, though he had no idea where to find either of those without potentially making them himself.
Before the Bane incident, he’d found a handful of older looking stray cats and used a laser pointer to make them attack the ‘Accept’ button for his party invites.
He might have some serious qualms about casual murder, but he wasn’t going to complain about cats being cats and decimating the local vermin populace.
It had honestly worked out pretty decently.
Those five cats had, over the last two days, gotten him a solid amount of experience and another thousand GP in dead rodents, birds and various small insects.
Their success rate was curiously high, but he attributed that to the cats all being level six and drastically outperforming the other nearby animals now.
And now, two days later, one of those stray cats had been captured by parties unknown and was apparently going to die.
He was…
Not entirely sure what he was expected to do about that.
He had no actionable information, such as a guilty party or even a general location.
“Map?” Did nothing.
“Locate Party?” Also did nothing.
“Highlight party?” Still did nothing.
“Settings.” This did something!
Dozens of screens popped into existence with large, flashing warning signs in red and his ears were filled with screeching static!
The volume got progressively louder and louder until putting his hands over his ears did nothing to help.
The pressure continued mounting, ever more painful until- — -5 VP!– –ERROR!
System settings has crashed!– –A defect ticket has been automatically generated.– –Please contact your local administrator if you need further assistance.– Leslie cast Life on himself twice, restoring the lost VP and burning eight MP.
There wasn’t much he could do about the blood leaking out of his ears, nose, his eyes…
Actually there was.
He checked to make sure Leslie’s mom wasn’t in the hallway and he cleaned that up in the bathroom.
Awesome.
Great.
Not doing that again.
“Alright.
Eleven hours and change left.
I…
Got nothing.” He wasn’t a detective of any measure and his people skills were poor.
Leslie began pacing around his room.
He wouldn’t know the first thing about interrogating people who’d been near the alleyways he’d picked up his party of strays, so that wouldn’t work.
He didn’t have any training in picking apart a crime scene quickly, so he wouldn’t be divining any…
Answers.
“Shop.” He demanded suddenly.
He’d been working at a specific plan, but he knew he was handicapping himself to follow it.
He didn’t have to stick to a single source of magic.
It was a universal toolbox!
Not just a means of healing and fighting.
Wasn’t that why he’d picked up the Transmutation skill in the first place?
And now he had eight hours to learn how to use Scrying.
No pressure.
—– Robin watched the warehouse in the docks from a building almost two blocks away.
There had been a growing number of reports of break-ins, muggings and beatings in the area.
Nothing abnormal had been stolen, no chemicals, not a rash of jewelry heists which left everything -except- diamonds untouched.
Not even fertilizer.
Just cash and shiny, hard to move valuables that professional thieves wouldn’t bother with.
After two weeks of collating reports and tracking suspects, they’d found that those were minor thieves, debt collectors and leg-breakers working for a larger, though still minor, organization.
Current intelligence suggested it was a small offshoot of the Falcone crime family.
Either a younger family member or mid-level boss trying to open up a new income avenue.
The Junior caped crusader hadn’t managed to get inside to take pictures or collect evidence yet, but he had seen a lot of kennels, cages and cat carriers being brought in.
Bruce’s contact in the police department had confirmed there had been a recent spike in missing animal reports, but they were too swamped with violent crimes to dedicate any resources to it.
In short, a gambling den focused on dog-fights.
Robin zoomed in, snapping pictures of people either entering or exiting the building.
He stopped and stared for a moment after he caught someone in frame wearing a blue hoodie, welding goggles of all things and a blue surgical mask.
He scrolled back.
Somehow that person had appeared in the millisecond between photos he’d been taking of the bouncer.
Robin zoomed back in.
The two were talking, he thought.
The bouncer definitely was.
Robin started to move when the overweight man pulled a pistol out of his jacket, but froze when the man disappeared, his clothes and gun dropping to the ground.
The person in the hoodie reached down, into the pile of clothes and pulled out a -Robin zoomed in closer- toad of all things.
He hadn’t been able to see earlier with the persons hands in their pockets, but he was wearing gloves.
He did something with the gun, too.
Causing it and the mans clothing to just disappear before he stuffed the toad in his hoodie.
With the bouncer out of the way and the evidence -disappeared- the person strolls right into the building.
Robin hesitates for only a moment, stuck between the decision to follow the metahuman vigilante and Bruce’s orders to hang back until he was healed enough to take the lead.
It barely took a second for him to choose to scale the building and follow the man in blue.
Robin’s in fantastic shape and trained incredibly well, but two city blocks is still a good distance to travel.
He was expecting chaos and mayhem when he got to the warehouse, but all he can hear is the thumping bass of music from inside.
No screaming or gunshots.
He doesn’t know if that’s worse.
A side door that he knew had been guarded earlier is cracked open, yellow light splashing across the dim alley.
Robin creeps next to it, straining his ears to listen over the thum-thump-thumping of the tasteless, soulless music.
“-Sh-sh-sh-sh-shh, it’s okay.
I’ve got you.” Can barely be heard, muddled with the hissing and whimpering of too many animals for Robin to make out.
He pushed the door open a bit more to get a look inside.
Blue hoodie is in the room, unharmed, and sitting on the floor next to him is an animal carrier with easily half a dozen toads, likely more.
He’s talking at the animals, but most of them remain absolutely terrified.
Robin starts taking pictures.
Batman will want to build a profile on this new meta, and he’ll want everything the boy wonder had seen and then some.
“A-a-a-nd next up to face our reigning champ-” Robin watches Blue rush to the door, placing himself just behind where it would open.
“-we’ll have the Bitch of Birmingham!
One of our newest acquisitions, see how she fights to protect her litter!” “…Hey Larry!
Larry?!
Idiot’s probably taking a smoke folks!
Daryl, Murry, go get the bitch!
And grab the dog while you’re at it!” Robin pulls back, cutting down his vision but hiding him in the dark.
The first man to enter the room, obscuring Blue behind the door, is tall and lanky with straw colored hair and cigarette stained lips.
The second one is shorter, burlier and wearing a ball-cap for the Metropolis football team.
They both spot the side door that’s cracked open and start heading towards it, but the door into the main building shuts silently.
They don’t even see Blue before they’re both a pile of clothes on the ground.
It’s a matter of moments before the meta has another pair of toads in hand, and shortly after has them put in the animal carrier with the rest.
Looking at it, Robin wonders if the announcer is the only member of the staff who’s still human.
For however little that’s worth.
An instant later and the piles of clothing have disappeared too.
Blue continues to walk around the room, making a bag of dog food disappear just like the clothes.
Then he does the same to various empty kennels.
Soon enough the room is basically bare but for the occupied cages.
“Sorry folks!
It looks like we’re having some technical difficulties.
If you’ll all hang tight for a minute, I’ll go get this sorted personally!” Once more at the announcers words Blue hides himself behind the door.
Moments later, this appears to have been a good idea.
The announcer, a fat redheaded man, slams through the door with a pump shotgun in his hands and a wild look in his eyes.
Robin can see it when he notices the missing cages and the door that’s propped open.
“One of you bastards grow a conscience?
That it?!” He’s heading for the open door, moving faster than Robin was expecting.
He starts to scramble out of the way when he knows he’s been seen.
The announcer fires off a shot, blasting the door open.
Robin hears the ker-chick of the shotgun being reloaded and dives for cover, but then it gets quiet.
He manages to take a look from beside a dumpster.
Blue is pulling a toad out of the announcers emptied clothes.
The shotgun and clothing disappearing an instant later.
Robin is looking directly into his eyes.
He’s staring back.
Probably.
Robin can’t actually see behind the welding goggles.
And then he slams the door.
Robin tries it, but the door is locked.
He runs, trying to get to the front of the building when he hears gunshots and people start screaming, running through it in a panic.
By the time Robin can get into the building, Blue is gone.
So is the safe.
And so are the animals.