When a powerful supervillain hatches a plan that has the potential to change the world as they know it, the Hive Five uncharacteristically steps up to put a dent in his plans. Not that they're "playing hero", or anything. Kyd Wykkyd centric. A little bit of Flinx and RobStar. Rated T for violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Teen Titans related.
Chapter 1: Borrowing from Friends
A young boy lay sprawled on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. He was choking on it, drowning in it; wanted to scream, but couldn't make a sound. One might have thought that the pain would be the worst part of the experience, but in the midst of all of this, he thought to himself, "What a pathetic way to die. Drowning in my own blood". He gurgled down a few more sticky lungfuls of air, seething about his rather undignified end. The distant sound of sirens were a soft lullaby as his whole world went black.
The boy awoke to a throbbing pain, the incessant beeping of a cardiograph, and the noxious smell of antiseptic. He'd awoken in this position often enough to instantly recognize that he was in a hospital. He had his wonderful alcoholic father to thank for that. He shook his head in annoyance, and pushed the call button on the side of the plastic bed. It beeped, and a nurse uttered a quick greeting before questioning the nature of the call.
Elliot opened his mouth to respond that he'd like to see his doctor, but instead was assaulted by a searing pain in his throat, and his 'voice' emerged as nothing but a hollow rush of air. He panicked, clutching the thick bandages around his neck as the electrocardiograph went wild.
It wasn't long before nurses began to pour into the room, reminiscent of the activity of worker ants after having their home stepped on. Several nurses were able to restrain him, as another prepped a needle with what appeared to be some sort of tranquilizer. He was about to inject the terrified patient when a rather frazzled looking doctor arrived, who discouraged the use of the tranquilizer, pointing out that the boy had already ceased resisting restraint. The doctor approached the boy, his arms raised and palms forward in a sign of peace, "Elliot, we're here to help. Can you stay calm, so my friends can let go of you?"
The boy opened his mouth once more, but after recalling the pain that had accompanied his prior attempt at speech, he opted for a head-nod instead. The nurses reluctantly relaxed their stranglehold on the patient, and stepped away cautiously, eyeing him as if he were about to leap from the bed and attack the doctor. The boy involuntarily smirked as he considered the absurdity of such a thought.
The doctor cleared his throat nervously, and tugged on his carelessly rolled-up left sleeve. He pushed his square glasses up on his nose before speaking, "Let me cut right to the chase. Elliot, obviously someone slit your throat." The boy nodded, a serious expression adorning his face. The doctor sighed, "When that happened, your vocal cords were damaged. Your throat will heal up nicely, hopefully with minimal scarring...but...you'll never speak again."
The news hit Elliot like a ton of bricks.
Over the years, Elliot had learned to live with his condition. While he did learn to use sign language, his telepathic abilities allowed him to communicate rather effectively with those who did not understand the former mode of communication. He had actually learned to cope with the pain of losing his voice, which he told himself had nothing to do with the savage revenge he exacted on his father a few years ago.
It no longer bothered him that "good ole' Dad" had forever silenced his nine year-old child's incessant questions eight years ago; he no longer felt inclined to ask any. Whether this personality shift would have happened with or without a voice remained unseen.
He stood atop a roof, one leg propped up on the ledge as he stared down at the city, watching the clueless civilians go on about their lives with an expression of boredom decorating his masked face. Nothing to do, nothing to steal; no desire to go home. He yawned, making no effort to cover his mouth. Suddenly, his communicator chirped, and once he opened it, he was faced with his partner in crime, See-More.
He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what he wanted. See-More got the message, and responded promptly, "Gizmo found something for us to...borrow from a friend of his". Kyd Wykkyd frowned; borrowing from 'friends' was seldom a fun experience, particularly when it was a friend of Gizmo's. The boy genius wasn't known for his sparkling personality.
See-More chuckled, "I know, I know! But this time, it's something good!" Wykkyd shrugged lazily and shut off his communicator before wrapping his cloak around himself and teleporting to headquarters. Upon his arrival, he noticed that Mammoth was in the middle of cleaning out refrigerator. Given what he had heard about the state of the Titans' fridge, he was grateful that their food never stayed there long enough to become blue and fuzzy. Gizmo sat on the couch next to See-More, impatiently awaiting the arrival of their missing teammate.
He tapped his foot furiously as he stared up at his presentation, which was being projected into the air in front of them. After a few more seconds, he began muttering under his breath about the tardiness of the red-suited Texan known as Billy Numerous. Kyd Wykkyd leaned against the far wall, crossing his arms across his chest.
Their tardy teammate finally arrived, and, without uttering so much as an apology, flopped onto the couch with a rather large bucket of fried chicken. Mammoth walked over and attempted to shove his gigantic hand into the container, when one of Billy's clones proceeded to slap his hand away in the manner of a peeved mother. "Hey!", Mammoth complained. Gizmo groaned angrily, and jumped on top of the coffee table, "Pay attention, you idiots! Sheesh." The room grew silent, as all eyes landed on their diminutive leader, who smiled in approval and clicked the button which controlled his presentation.
"This", a holographic picture of a tall man with a rather creepy purplish eyes, and a clear glass display of his rather freaky looking brain, appeared. "- is Psimon. He's a pit-sniffin' telepath who double-crossed me. I was supposed to get a cut of his profits, but I hacked into his computer network and learned a little bit more than I was supposed to know.
He cut me out of the deal and called the Titans to come pick me up. I got away, and I took this little tid-bit of information with me." Gizmo grinned mischievously as another push of a button caused the display to change to a rather complicated looking schedule of events, along with what looked like a chronicle of names.
His small eyes scanned the group of young men before him, and met with varying expressions of confusion and disinterest. His temper began to boil, "Don't you understand what this means!?" Billy lifted a finger, "Uhhh... No." Gizmo scoffed, "It means that he's gonna try to take over the world." His teammates simply blinked, unfazed by this information. Mammoth snatched a piece of chicken from Billy before speaking, "Big deal. Everybody wants to take over the world."
Gizmo slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead before pointing to what was indeed a list of names, "Don't you guys see! He's building an amplifier so that he can take over the minds of select people to be in his army. Our names are all on this list!" Billy dropped his bucket of chicken, as he jumped up to get a closer look at said list. He looked it over once, twice, three times.
Billy locked eyes with his cowled teammate who was still leaned up against the wall,
"All except for you, Kyd!"
A/N: This story is actually completely finished. I plan to upload on a weekly basis. This week, however, I will put up two chapters because this chapter is very short.
Reviews would be much appreciated!
~Rosalind
