Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans.

Slade: Beginnings

Lightning flashed slightly in the night sky. Everyone in the lonely, relinquished town was sleeping, thoughts dancing about their minds within dreams. That is, everyone except a little boy, with a colossal task to accomplish.

Feet scurried across the chilled floor of highest building. The steps soon came into rhythm with the music of the rain descending. Drip, drip, scurry, scurry. The boy went hastily down each passageway of the dark and dismal sector trying hopelessly to find what he was looking for. He didn't even want to do this, but he knew that there was no choice. Innocent lives depended upon his retrieval of this enigmatic object. His father would do no more damage to this once beautiful city.

Flashes of lights, pounding of thunder, yells in the distance. Keep running his mind told him, but his petite body could not handle the pressure of running any longer. Gradually his body slowed, and he collapsed panting on the floor. I've failed him, the young one thought, and then the thoughts within his minds came to a halt. Dead silence filled the building.

"I found him near the west gate. Passed out on account o' exhaustion, I suppose. Don't know why a kid this young would be in a closed museum at this time of night." They were talking about him. What happened?

The two guards inspected the child closely. A kid this young should be with his parents, they thought. And why was he there in the first place? So many possibilities ran through their aching minds, just itching to know who the youngster was. Both security guards knew that there must be a secure reason why he was there. It couldn't be that it was just a game, just a dare, right?

Pain shot through the child's body. The steady agony became unbearable…What had he did to create such pain? Once every while his eyes were able to pry apart from one another. It barely allowed a glimpse at the clock, but all he got was disappointment, which he found was just as saddening as the discomfort coursing through his body. Dad knows…he knows…knows…

He was asleep.

"Yeah, he's been muttering things all day. I don't think he is awake. I tried a couple times to wake him. Didn't do any good. It's hard, ya'know, seeing him writhing in agony like that." He could hear them talking once again. This one, he noticed, was the security guard who had found him.

The other man was a doctor. He looked utterly perplexed. If this injury was merely of exhaustion as the security guard explained, Why hadn't it of worn off by this time? Doctor, he decided to call him, for he couldn't make out what his name was, walked around the child many times. No bruises, no scars, no blood, nothing. It almost seemed that the pain the boy was feeling was all in his mind.

"Contact me when he wakes up," Doctor said. He wanted to say "if", but being pessimistic wasn't what he did best. Whoever this security guard was, he must have cared as to what happened to the young one. Or at least was curious about his origin.

Once the doctor left, there was cessation of sound. This let him do some contemplation of his own. Where was he? Still in the museum? No, he couldn't be. There would be visitors at the museum. That would make noise. Children, parents, grandparents, it would all make sound, and he didn't hear anything. Unless he was in a staff room. He got frustrated. Why was he stupefied to this one spot? Wasn't there anything he could do? Father would be coming, he always knows, and then it'll be my fault. Back to the innocent people getting hurt. The city becoming destroyed, piece by piece until, slowly, he becomes King. I've seen it happen in the darkness of my dreams. And when it does, no one would be able to confront him.

But he was wrong.

More voices. More hours. More time passing by. Precious time; time that he needed desperately if he wanted to survive. If he wanted others to survive.

One day, he finally got up. Pain still rang through his body, but he was now so use to it that it was only a continuous, dull ache. It was dim in the room he woke up in, but he could make out shadows around him. His eyes came into focus and he looked closely on the name engraved on the wooden door.

Officer Caiden Crow

It must be his office. That means I'm still at the museum. How long has it been since I passed out? A day? Two days? A week? His head throbbed uncontrollably. He felt really dizzy as well, but he had to get out. He had to get away from this place, this town, and his father forever.

The boy sneaked quietly out of the room and into the hall. It was still dark, and not even any security guards were around. He went around looking for the exit, opening doors carefully as to not attract any attention. In his search he found a staff room, and immediately his eyes focused upon a snack machine. His mind was so concentrated on other things that he hadn't for one moment realized how hungry he actually was.

Without thinking, the boy shoved his shoulder into the mechanism. Candy, chips, and a couple packs of gum fell out of their slots. 'It'll have to do for now.'

"Did you hear that? It came from over there." Oh no, voices. He could hear the people coming towards him, and he panicked.

The door opened slowly and the two men entered, unknowing. "H-h-hello…Is anybody in there?" The boy chuckled slightly under his breath. People are always afraid of what they cannot see.

They searched thoroughly, though they didn't find anything. Both looked puzzled, but didn't push the issue any further. It must have been only their imaginations playing tricks on them after too much caffeine.

"Maybe you should go get your ears checked. Your hearing is getting a little rusty after hitting fifty, eh?" The much younger security guard joked. The other glared at him, but retaliated, "You said you heard it too!" But the man just shrugged and laughed.

Once they had left the room it was safe for the boy to leave the cupboard. Then he wasted no time and went straight to the stairs. He dashed down the stairs like a bolt of lightning and once he was down all of the steps (which seemed like hundreds), left the building. He could no longer go back and fetch the object he was supposed to. Father had given him the task and for taking too long, had failed him. Even if he retrieved it, which could have turned out worse than the last time, it still wouldn't have mattered. He had had a deadline, and now he needed to flee.

"Sorry, Dad." He muttered.

And just like that, young Slade disappeared like a shadow in the night.