Chapter One: Losing Enlightenment
Summary: Eight years ago, Starfire went missing, breaking the Titans apart. Now, Robin has spent eight years looking for, but the woman he's found isn't anything like who's he's looking for. What are Slade and his new partner planning? An AU.
Notes: This is out of character. In fact, this is so out of character that I'm going to go ahead and say that it's AU (Alternate Universe). Starfire is outrageously evil-sexy, Nightwing will be clueless, Slade will be maniuplative and cute, Beastboy is jaded, Raven is enlightened, and everything else is an original character or plot. WARNING: This is highly confusing to everyone but me. Enjoy. XD
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. The opening bit comes from Noriaki Kakyoin's story The Hitman, it's a lovely Slade/Starfire so go read it. Beautiful Stuff all around.
2002
Slade looked a bit uncomfortable, driving down the highway with a girl no more than 17, sitting shotgun. She's crazy, he thought in disbelief, but there was delight in the thought. She casually tossed the phone out the window and smiled at him. He glanced at her, but the smile was infectous and he couldn't help but smile back. "Why did you...?" he began.
"I have reasons," Starfire said mysteriously, and her smile deepened secretively.
"You do?" he asked, tone skeptical. Not Starfire, the good one, the entirely too ethical alien with her strange beauty and angelic green eyes that he--he cut off the train of thought .
"Yes," she said in a tone of voice that made him stiffen and turn back to the wheel, "I do."
He turned on the radio, trying to block out everything. Had this just happened? An assassin was sitting in a car next to the girl that he was supposed to have held hostage. He wasn't sure who was the hostage now. Trying not to think that, he turned up the radio.
Slade turned it down. "I swear, this thing is against me," he said lightly. He glanced side long at Starfire, but she only smiled knowingly. "What to do now?"
"Perhaps we could disappear," Starfire said thoughtfully. "I think it is best. I am eager for a new adventure...far away from here."
"I hear Europe's nice this time of year. We could see Venice, Athens, Berlin..."
"...London and Paris," Starfire added too innocently. She smiled mischievously, much to Slade's chagrin, but he grinned regardless.
"You're a little imp, aren't you?" he asked, but not without affection.
"Am I?" she asked innocently.
Slade laughed and Starfire smiled at him. "This could be the start of something, you know," he said, then paused. Starfire smiled serenely.
"I believe it already is."
May 5th, 2010
"Do you know all the guests for tonight?" Miranda Jameson asked her guest, a darkhaired boy of maybe twenty. He furrowed his brow.
"I don't know all of them, I can't be sure. Who's the host?"
Miranda picked up her wineglass and began to walk as she talked, indicating for her guest to follow her. "Mr. Richard West, of course, offered his ballroom and paid for everything. It was a great honor for him, since the President and Prime Minister chose his hotel for their business in Europe. Now," she paused and indicated a blonde woman in a red dress. "That is Miss Andrea Saxton, who was in charge of decorations, guest lists, refreshments. Almost everyone was invited, you know, who was a major contributor, as well as a lot of the politicians who are very important. There's some quite nasty gossip going around about her, but I won't repeat that."
The boy paused. "Who is that redheaded woman?" he asked suddenly. "In the white dress."
"Oh, that's Kori Anderson," she said, offhand. "Pretty, isn't she? I've always wanted hair like that. French, I believe she is. She's a quote-unquote "business partner" with Dr. Wilson. Now there's some topic for gossip if you wanted one. Hold on, where are you--?" Miranda watched, puzzled, as he strode off toward Kori with no more heed to her. "Wonder if he knows her." She speculated for a moment, then shrugged and took a sip of her champagne. "Ah well."
"Miss Kori Anderson?"
The redheaded woman turned to face her visitor, tilting her head upward slightly to look him in the face. "Oui?"
He inclined his head. "I am Mr. Richard Grayson. Would you walk with me, please?"
She looked puzzled but responded with a courteous: "Just a moment." She turned gracefully and set down the glass of champagne she was holding; her white silk gloves left no fingerprints. Her visitor took notice of this immediately, but said nothing. He offered her his arm and she took it, walking towards the long windows on the end of the ballroom.
"This is a very important meeting," he began, more watching her face than talking. "The President, the Prime Minister, plus all of the prominent politicians. Quite a lot of targets in one place," he said casually, glancing at her face.
It was faintly puzzled but not out of character. "Targets?"
"They are world leaders, Miss Anderson. May I remark upon your name? Anderson is British in nature, whereas you claim to be French. And Kori is not well suited to either language."
"My father was British," she said easily, her face bearing no trace of the lie he was looking for. "My mother French. Not an uncommon pairing where I am from. And as for first names, what of them? They are as the parents fancy them to be."
A smile touched his lips. Touche. "What of them, indeed? you come tonight in unusual company, Miss Kori."
"Unusual? I hardly think so. Is there a more usual kind of company?"
"You joke, but I do not. This is high society, is it not? High society is usually not comfortable with assassins."
A smile played on her lips. "Then you do not know high society as well as you think," she said, truthfully but with a touch of condescension. French to the core.
"But why is a beautiful young lady like yourself traveling with one?"
"Assassins? Of whom do you speak?"
Oh, she was infuriating. "Doctor Wilson," he said, spitting out the doctor. "He has a history."
"Don't we all? I do not understand your American ways, Mr. Grayson. He is not an assassin, he is a very large contributer to the Prime Minister and the hotel."
American ways? he wanted to snarl. You aren't her, she was nothing like you. You just have the same face, the same name. But outwardly he said: "Oh, full of good deeds and noble intentions, I'm sure. Well, Miss Anderson, this man once tried to murder four of my best friends, and then enslave me. He kidnapped one of them, and she has never been seen again. She looked like you, Kori Anderson. If you are her--,"
"But I am not," she interrupted, her eyes cold and contemptuous. "It is not my fault that you mistake me for a woman you are looking for, and from what I see of you, is probably happier away from your prescence if she has had time to become comfortable there. It's been long enough, Mr. Grayson, and maybe she has something else now. Stop thinking of yourself so much and start thinking of others--and as for me, do not mistake me for dead women!"
Spots of anger in her cheeks flashed and she swept off, leaving Nightwing where he stood. He stood there for a long time afterward, his eyes dark and unreadable.
-
Kori's flash of anger was soon replaced by a paleness as she swept quickly across the crowd, nodding and murmuring half-hearted "Excuse me"s to distinguished guests, keeping one eye on Richard Greyson. Yes, she knew him by that name, and the anger of seeing him here had made her careless, too careless. She had all but revealed herself--they must leave.
She came to a cluster of men in tuxedos, who smiled at her and murmured pleasantries. Slade turned to look at her curiously, his eye taking in her pale face and trembling hands. "I am feeling a little sick," she said clearly, and the men nodded their sympathies. Slade exchanged parting words and led her from the ballroom with an arm around her shoulders.
Once outside, they went down the hall a little ways, exiting to stand outside on a balcony. Slade made sure no one was following them, then turned to her. Her French accent and trembling voice disappeared as she spoke, her tone becoming calmer and unaccented.
"Robin..." her voice twisted, "Nightwing...is here."
Slade was immediately alert. "He talked to you?"
She drew in a breath. "I tried to throw him off, but I am almost certain he knows me."
Slade cursed under his breath. "I don't think he would attack in the ballroom, but it's too late now. We need to leave. Can you fly down to the garage without being seen?"
Kori nodded. "Hold onto me," she said, and he grabbed her around the waist. She put her arms over his and lifted off the ground, floating over the railing before going down. Slade closed his eyes, more to relax then from fear of heights, leaning his head against her shoulder. She kept to the shadows, knowing her visibility in the white dress, avoiding windows.
"You look beautiful tonight," Slade said.
"Do you ever become afraid, flying like this?" she asked softly, ignoring his first comment.
"Not with you," he said. She smiled.
"We're here. Come on."
He opened his eyes and lifted his head, keeping his arms tight around her waist. Unbeknownst to him, she smiled, but pushed them away. "Let's go."
Slade's car was black, common enough to be inconspicuous but more than it seemed. Kori climbed in the passenger side while Slade turned on the computer systems. "Find Richard Greyson," he commanded the computer, and Kori glanced at him.
"Will we need to fight?"
"Most likely." Kori nodded and reached behind her as the computer beeped, Slade pulling out of the parking space and starting out of the garage.
"Richard Greyson found. 1st floor parking garage, West Hotel, London," the computer intoned. Slade cursed.
"He's ahead of us. Kori, give me the gun in the floor back there."
Kori picked it up and threw it at him, pulling the white dress over her head. The skirts hid her black pants, and she pulled a black tank top over her bra, throwing the dress in the backseat. She pulled her hair down as Slade turned a corner and Nightwing burst into view.
Slade slammed on the gas, and the car raced forward, swerving around a corner as Nightwing jumped on it. He slipped but threw in a hook, line snapping out as he regained his balance.
Slade turned and fired two shots out of the open window as the car swerved onto the open street. Nightwing dodged them easily, jumping back onto the car, and Slade swerved, knocking him off.
"Kori, the line," he yelled, and she rose through the sunroof in one fluid motion. Her thumbs and forefingers made a gun, and with red hair blowing over her face and her eyes glowing green, she leveled it.
"Bang," she whispered, and a blast of razor-sharp green energy ripped the rope in two. Nightwing fell behind as the car raced forward, and she wrenched out the hook, throwing it to the ground. The car was long gone by the time Nightwing picked up his hook.
Chapter 2