I do not own Teen Titans.

Movement

You could tell so much from the way people moved. It really was one of the best ways to actually get to know someone, if one only had the means to see it.

To say that the one-eyed man saw more than many others would not have been a lie. If anything it would have been an understatement worthy of an incredulous stare and mocking laughter.

Just looking at these little heroes gave him so much more insight into their minds than any number of commissioned psych reports. Those psycho-analysts never seemed to understand that over-complication was sometimes worse than just omitting some details.

He didn't care about the useless drivel those men considered important. He wasn't interested in their fears or hopes or dreams, their relationships and jealousies and insecurities. He had no interest in those. People changed, even if very few people agreed with that.

And more's the pity.

Settling back into the surprisingly uncomfortable chair, Slade's lone eye scanned the surveillance yet again.

It was very enlightening. And very, very interesting.

That alien girl moved with purpose. Every move, every punch, every short jaunt in the sky was teeming with purpose. It spoke of immense responsibility, even before she became a Titan. There it was again. Over-extending on a punch, all her focus on one of the many drones swarming around her. It left her open to a variety of counter attacks.

Headstrong. Impulsive. Reliant in her strength above all else. I imagine even among her kind her strength is tremendous. Her mouth twitched in some unuttered exclamation, the words swallowed before they met air. Slade leaned forward and worked the controls.

Watched it again. Marked the time on the tape and manipulated more video logs. The numerous screens showed different times when the girl's lips moved, but no voice came forth. Before a fight and during it. Times where a bit of leadership would have made the ensuing fight less eventful.

Used to a commanding position. Reluctance to take command spoke of a diplomatic mindset. Very interesting. I wonder what she did before she came to Earth. She's used to combat, that's a given. Commanding, yet aware of others' feelings. So many possibilities.

Slade's eye roamed the screen's for a few moments longer. Idle speculation brings us nowhere though.

His hands danced across the keyboard again. All the screens returned to where Starfire was attacked by the drones. It would have ended badly, had a beam of bluish-white light not intercepted the majority. The drone's camera swiveled to trace the origin of the blast.

Mr. Stone. You pitiful creature.

He'd seen the reports. The changes made to his ruined body, wrought by his own father. No wonder he ran away. To look at the face that turned you into such a mockery of life, every day for the rest of your life?

Even now, months after he adapted to his body, the cyborg still moved strangely. Too smooth and too choppy at the same time. Parts twitching and shuddering at irregular intervals. Which was why he seemed to claim the long-range fire-support position. Less movement, less involuntary actions.

Still, when he was forced into melee, he attacked with a disturbing fervour, using his unnatural strength to crush any and all threats. Too much repressed anger there. He needs to find some way to channel that, or the Titans will break around him. And still he hasn't…

Slade's hand reached out and pressed a series of buttons. The screens flashed, showing stolen schematics of Cyborg's original, life-saving modifications on the left and a more recent copy on the right. There were no changes of any significance.

You have the capability… Why not improve on your father's work? Make yourself stronger or faster or more efficient. Use your defiled body to some end. It was a conundrum. Yet another piece he'd have to feed back to his contacts in the hope they might have the answer. Oh, how he hated having to rely overmuch on others.

The side-screens returned to their dimmed state and the log resumed, showing Cyborg using his sonic weapon to blast a number of drones off-screen. Suddenly he stumbled forward and almost fell.

Slade's hand flashed out and paused the video. There, almost hidden in his bulk, was a sliver of metal. Debris from one of the drones. The video clearly showed blood flowing and yet, when the video resumed, Cyborg stood up and continued fighting, aggravating his injury. Inability to process pain? It would explain much. The pain of his modification must be tremendous. Did his father burn out his pain-receptors? It would be the humane thing to do.

Yet more questions, and no answers… yet.

The video ended as the drone was destroyed by something off-screen. The video continued out o a different perspective. A green gorilla was smashing the chassis of the previous drone repeatedly on the ground, before seeming to melt away into the form of the changeling.

Slade's eye narrowed. He knew a lot about Beast Boy. More than enough to not let himself be fooled by his mannerisms. No one survived as long as he did on the Doom Patrol without being extremely qualified.

And it was reflected in this video. The battle was almost over when he saw the metal shard embedded in Cyborg. His movements were quick and sure, navigating the vast field of debris with subconscious ease. His hands reached out to stop Cyborg from moving around anymore.

Beast Boy spoke to Cyborg, but the drone was too far away to get any clear sound. It was close enough to see his expression of frustration as he fended off Cyborg's hands from the impromptu spear. Oh yes. That alone speaks of his experience. Better to keep it in than let him bleed out. Not the first response and certainly not one picked up easily. How do so many of my colleagues dismiss him so readily?

And there's the real enigma. Raven. No history prior to the Titans, no sightings or any evidence of her existence at all. Still, all aspects point to her being human. How was it possible to not have any prior record of any kind in this day and age? He considered her movements carefully.

Sure and swift when removing the debris, careful and controlled as her hands glowed at the wound healed. Instantly unsure and hesitant when the job was done. Her hands reached up to put up her hood as she backed away. Her foot caught on a destroyed drone and she fell backwards.

Beast Boy moved quickly, catching her before she fell. They were completely still before they both scrambled backwards. Her face displayed a variety of emotions, confusion chief among them. At his action or her reaction? That sort of inexperience spoke of a sheltered upbringing. Perhaps a secret Meta-project?

Again, questions without answers.

But they were all of little consequence.

A dark form rose from next to one of the drones before turning. It revealed the brightly colored front of Robin.

Ah yes. Robin.

His hands clattered over the keys and each screen quickly flashed to a different angle of Robin during the battle. Slade settled back and watched the screen intently.

There! Over-extension, left himself open.

Too little commitment to the attack, let it get away.

Accuracy was off, missed the sensor-cluster.

Too slow, didn't react in time.

So many moments, so many little faults few would see. To the untrained eye, Robin was a multi-coloured blur, dismantling drones left and right with apparent ease.

But his was not an untrained eye. Mistakes stood out vividly. Laxity, both in training and the actual fight was glaringly obvious.

Again. Too much anger. Made him careless.

It really was a shame. So many faults, unnecessary things, careless things. Mistakes so clearly deviating from the shadow of a larger figure going through the same motions.

Perhaps it's time I show him what his true potential is?

It was certainly food for thought.

AN: And we all know it didn't stop there.

Anyway, a plot bunny that just. Wouldn't. Leave. Me. ALONE.

Read, enjoy and review.

~GrinGrin

Written: 02/06/2014

Posted: 02/06/2014