A/N: I DO NOT OWN RISE OF THE GUARDIANS. SO THIS IS MY FIRST ROTG FANFIC. LIKE MOST PEOPLE I SAW THE MOVIE AND JUST THOUGHT: HELL YES! SO HERE I AM. PLEASE REVIEW IT MAKES ME WANT TO UPDATE THIS. SO IF YOU LIKE THIS THEN PLEASE REVIEW! SORRY THIS WAS ACCEDENTLY DELETED.

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It was pathetic. Simply and utterly pathetic. The Boogeyman. The Nightmare King. Pitch Black reduced to…this.

He wandered the empty streets, not alone, for he could still hear the clippity clop of his own fear following him. The black sand sculpted horses would never cease their mission, a mission that Fear Itself had called upon them to do. Stalk and bring about fear to their creator. They were created, destined, designed even to warp the innocent and carefree personas of children around the world into dark, depressed creature forever afraid of what lurks underneath their beds and in their closets. However, when the children weren't afraid, weren't terrified of their sandy black manes and golden eyes, then the Nightmares simply disappeared. The nightmares and the fear in which they inspire turn into sweet dreams and pathetic hope. Pitch's fists curled as his own Nightmares turned on him, feeding on his own fear rather than the fear of the children of the world. The ultimate betrayal. The Boogeyman's fear turned into an unstoppable weapon of his own demise.

Well, that's not technically true. Pitch's downfall was a group effort on the Guardians part. They all inspired the children to conquer the fear set in their hearts from birth and weaken The Nightmare King just enough to crush him. Pitch ground his teeth together as the Guardians entered his mind. Even in his own decrepit imagination, the Guardians radiated all the things they represented on Earth. Hope, wonder, dreams, memories, and…fun.

That fun was Jack Frost. Jack FUCKING Frost. He was…disappointing. Pitch had long fed off his fear of being alone for more than a few decades, and he come to…enjoy that particular snack. It was sad really seeing such a broken and solitary boy overcome his fear. Pitch nearly cried at the thought of his lost meal. All Jack need was a snot nosed brat to saw his name a few times and suddenly the spirit is bigger than North himself…literally.

But Pitch knew, like he always knows, that deep down in his ice encrusted heart lives a small touch of fear. Just a touch was all it took to overcome every rational sense and undo all that anyone's every worked for…this Pitch knew very well. The only problem was that Jack's fear was new and relatively underdeveloped. Fear is always better once it has had time to feaster and grow. All it took was time. But Pitch didn't have time. One day and one child was all it too put an end to the centuries he spent planning, coordinating, and corrupting. Pitch's golden yellow eyes narrowed as he sucked in an unnecessary breath, in a vain effort to calm his swirling thoughts of his second defeat at the hands of the Guardians.

Above him a street light flickered, uncertainly as if it was trying decided whether or not to say on. Pitch raised his hand and concentrated on the light, trying to snuff it out. It was a simple trick really, one that he could have done without even trying when he had his full power. But now? Nothing. As a matter of fact the light stopped flickering and seemed to glow brighter. Pitch let out a growl and angrily walked out from under the street light and down the sidewalk, not even caring a rather drunk couple stumbled right through him.

Pitch tensed as his Nightmares hooves seemed to speed up, the sound sending dark vibrations into his own blacken soul. His breath quickened as he rounded the corner. The hooves becoming louder as they neared their destination. Pitch turned his head as his eyes darted from left to right, trying to locate the sandy mares. But the Nightmares camouflaged perfectly into the background of the sleepy town, with a cloudy, starless night. The only light was from dim streetlights on the sidewalk. More hooves beat against the pavement behind and in front of him. Helpless the Nightmare King pressed himself against one of two tables standing guard at an obnoxiously quaint café. His grey hands gripped the silver metal of the small table as his long fingers rested on the glass. The glass of the table itself cracked as The Boogeyman's Nightmares closed in on him.

Beads of hot sweat dripped from Pitch's brow as a loud whiney escaped the mouth of a Nightmare. It echoed around him and made The Boogeyman dry heave at the sound of his impending doom. His grey fingers clenched the table harder as yellow eyes screwed themselves shut as the clippity clopping mares were upon him. With one final whiney the Nightmare King knew they were there, ready to use and abuse his body, psyche, and soul as they were taught…by him. With that thought implanted in his mind, Pitch's hand clenched sending a new spider web of cracks causing it to shatter. The broken glass crashed onto the cement sidewalk along with a half empty napkin dispenser and a glass salt shaker, which shattered as well. Pitch refused to open his eyes. He knew he was pathetic, but for the time being it was the furthest thing from his mind. All he wanted was for the Nightmares to just get it over with.

Then it stopped. No warning. No last whiney from the mares. Nothing. There was just silence. Pitch's breath lessened, but he refused to open his eyes, still clutching the broken table like a child cradling their teddy bear during a storm. A moment passes, then another, and another. Finally Pitch opened his eyes and surveyed the scene around him. It was nothing special. The same town. The same lights. Just no Nightmares. Slowly Pitch looked to the sides as he slowly released his grasp. Free from the table he took a cautionary step forward, then another.

Pitch was confused. His Nightmares never, NEVER, leave. They couldn't. Only when fear is replaced by hope and joy could a Nightmare be truly vanquished and, at the moment, Pitch was anything but. Slowly Pitch turned around; fully expecting to come face to face with the large, black horse, he had come to accept as his own fear. Instead he was staring at the front window of a café. The window's blinds were pulled, but between the blinds and the window was a mirror. Confused The Boogeyman glanced up at the café's name as if it would explain the mirror.

The Looking Glass Café

Pitch turned towards the mirror and examined himself. He looked…broken…beaten down even. His graying skin was no longer healthy, but beginning to pale and spot in some places. His glossy black hairy was now greasy and haphazardly spiked. His grey lips were chapped and his eyes…his eyes were filled with something. Not just fear, but dread as well. The two emotions co-existed in The Nightmare King's yellow orbs and his shoulders hunched, he looked…pathetic. Not even worth of feasting on fear or even uncertainty. He was nothing. He was as he felt…worthless.

With these thoughts in his head pitch tore his head from the mirror and intended to make the long trek back to his lair. His eyes meet the pile of glass and salt. The table was broken into what seemed like millions of pieces, some so tiny that they could barley be seen with the naked eye. The salt grains were even smaller. However, Pitch's yellow eyes grew wide as the tiny grains…rose. At first he thought it was his imagination, but soon the tiny grains were floating mere inches off the ground. A gentle breeze brushed past The Boogeyman, but it barley caused the grains to budge. In an instant the grains crashed together, the white particles colliding and attacking each other, multiplying and taking shape as they did so. The white salt grew and morphed and then dispersed with a ripple, sending salt into Pitch's mouth. He gagged as the salt touched his tongue. In one hack, Pitch spat out the salt, leaving only a bad after taste in his mouth. The phlegm and salt landed at someone's foot who let out a small laugh.

"What did you do? Deep throat a ten incher?" A voice asked sarcastically. Pitch's eyes looked up at the voice's owner.

Standing in the middle of the glass was a boy. He was about seventeen at best with black hair that blend into majestic purple then into silver. His lips were full and had two black snake bite piercings below them. His eyes were a royal blue. Underneath his left eye was a black glittery tattoo that, unknown to Pitch, was inspired from A Clockwork Orange. His skin was pale. Not pale like Jack Frost, but an unhealthy corpse like pale. He wore a black graphic tee shirt with splotches of illegible sliver scrawl on it and black skinny jeans held up by a rainbow belt. His feet were covered in black shoes studded with silver spikes. His nails were painted black and silver, each color alternating on a finger. Around his neck was a necklace of an upside-down horseshoe and a black messenger bag was slung over his shoulder. The boy smiled a Pitch.

"Well" He asked tapping his foot impatiently. The Boogeyman only stared, opened mouthed. The boy rolled his eyes and slide gracefully into the iron chair of the other table.

"Aren't you going to sit down" He asked a coy smile playing on his lips. The Boogeyman made no move. He just stared at the boy who had just made an overly dramatic entrance. The boy studied Pitch's face before huffing in annoyance.

"Pity, I thought The Boogeyman would be scarier" He said, mock disappointment coating his words. Pitch's eye twitched at this. How dare…this…this stranger mock him! He was Pitch Black. The Boogeyman. The Nightmare King! He was and forever shall be the scariest thing to walk the face of this Earth and any other.

"I guess I shouldn't have expected much from someone who has the word 'boogie' in his title. It just makes people think of snot and disco." He said examining his nails with faint interest. "Neither of them are very scary…well disco maybe. I mean bell bottoms…really?"

Pitch's teeth ground together, enamel grinding away as the stranger spoke mockery to The Boogeyman.

"But it could be worse, you could be named North West or Blue Ivy. Now those are some awful names, but yours is right up there" The stranger gave Pitch a once over, observing him from head to toe. "Actually seeing you in person it's no wonder the Guardians kicked your ass." The stranger pushed. Deep within him The Nightmare King felt something twinge in his black heart. A new emotion bubbled within him and the boy's words, not fear, but anger. Pure unsheltered anger, aimed only at the stranger who had the audacity to tease The Nightmare King.

"I AM PITCH BLACK." He roared. "I AM FEAR ITSELF AND NO GUARDIAN SHALL EVER, EVER DEFEAT ME"

The boy smirked, mentally patting himself on the back for striking Pitch's last nerve. "Then why did they?"

Pitch's yellow eyes narrowed at the boy, before his vision was blinded by rage. In an instant Pitch let out a war cry that would rival an armies and lunged at the boy. The stranger's royal blue eyes…flashed. It was brief, but it was noticeable to anyone who looked. It was almost like light bounced off them, creating a shimmer that lasted only a second.

The next thing that Pitch realized was the fact he was face down on the concrete. His nose and general face throbbed as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just occurred.

"Calm down, seriously you have a shorter fuse then a fat chick on her period." The boy replied in a bored tone. Pitch's eyes rose to the boy, who in turn gestured to the other iron chair across from him. Sighing the Boogeyman rose to his full height, towering over the boy. The pair stood and sat respectfully and stared at each other, neither willing to succumb to their opponents gaze. Finally Pitch was the one who spoke.

"Who are you?" He asked. The boy smirked grew.

"Not important, but what is important is that I am here to offer my assistance"

"And what could you do" The Boogeyman questioned his tone as if he were talking to a child.

"More then you know, now why don't you have a seat and we can have a nice long chat about it" The stranger persisted. Pitch scoffed and broke eye contact.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't need any help" He said, letting his arrogance bleed into his voice.

"Dude, you went up against a guy who is literally made of sand, a chick who practically wets herself at a piece of a child's skull, an Aussie furry, a teenager whose most powerful weapon is ice, and a guy who's so fat he makes Nicki Minaj's ass look like a fucking toothpick and still epically failed…you need my help" The boy said nonchalantly. When Pitch didn't respond he kept going.

"It literally took you a thousand years to make sand black and kill the Sandman, only for it to be undone by a child and a boy with a cold"

The moments ticked by as Pitch took the boys words into consideration. True all his planning had been undone by a single child and Jack Frost, but what this boy was forgetting was that he, Pitch Black, was forever just as fear is. He had eternity to develop a new plan. Pitch thought back to the Dark Ages, oh the glorious Dark Ages where he reined supreme, to now where he was nothing but a child's bed time story. Pitch glanced at the boy who filed his nails, looking bored.

"Let's see how this plays out" Pitch thought as he slowly lowered himself into the chair across from the boy.

"Glad you saw it my way" The stranger said as he put his nail file away in his messenger bag. He reached across the table and grasped the salt shaker. He unscrewed the top and poured the contents on the glass table, the white grains spreading across the glass in waves. Slowly the boy traced delicate patterns in the grains with his finger.

"You get your power from fear right?" He asked The Boogeyman after a minute of total silence. Pitch raised an eyebrow.

"Of course. Everyone knows that" The boy nodded.

"Your plan wasn't bad, it just had a lot of holes" The stranger said. Pitch snorted.

"Like what?"

"You corrupted something. You put all your faith in the Sandman's dream sand rather than your own natural abilities. You failed to realize that anything that's corrupted can be fixed." Pitch opened his mouth to speak, but the boy cut him off.

"And the whole making horses thing? I get it nightmares, but you could have done so much more if you hadn't put all your faith in a bad pun"

"And I suppose you could do any better" Pitch growled at him. The boy ignored him and kept talking.

"You have so much potential; you just put all your faith in the nightmares of children rather than the glaring obvious power source you could have used."

"And what pray tell is that" Pitch spat out.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Fear"

Pitch opened his mouth to argue. To claim he did, using the fear of the children's nightmares to fuel his own powers and Nightmares to destroy the pathetic Guardians, but once again the boy just kept talking.

"Not just the fear of the nightmares. You can feed off more fear then what a simple bad dream can cause."

Now The Nightmare King was interested. He leaned forward and asked. "Like what."

"Imagine the fear of children everywhere. Feeding off the fear of what lives under their beds, of what their parents say, of being alone in this big bad world" The boys lips drew upward into a twisted smile that could only be described as sadistic as he stood up and walked slowly around the table to stand behind the Nightmare King, slowly drawing his hand across his shoulder. "But why stop there, imagine the fear that the adults could produce. Is the mortgage late? Is my wife happy? Will my children walk in and see us together? You could suck it all in and make them afraid. And soon not only children will fear what hides under their beds." The boy purred.

Pitch felt an iron ball of pure joy form in his gut, a warm feeling coursed through his veins as a feeling a pure bliss that could only be described as orgasmic enveloped his every thought.

"And imagine, the power you could get if you could feed off the fear of the most powerful being in existence" The boy said, putting a cherry on top of the delicious tale he spun.

"The Guardians?" Pitch questioned. The boy shook his head as his eyes darted up to the sky. Pitch turned his head as well, just in time to see the dark grey clouds part revealing the bright nearly full moon.

"His" The boy hissed in his ear.

Pitch mouth just watered at the mere thought at taking his fill at The Man in the Moon's fear. The stranger walked back in front of The Boogeyman.

"Think about it, but for now-" The boy swung his messenger bag around his shoulder and smiled. "Here's a little…parting gift." His eyes flashed once more and in an instant the sound of screeching tires filled Pitch's ears.

In a moment Pitch turned his head towards the street to see two cars collide with each other. Both vehicles let out horrible bone withering crunches, the sound of metal bending in ways it was not meant to. Glass shattered, air bags deployed, and tires screeched as the two cars dove deeper and deeper into their opponent as if trying to overpower one another. Pitch's mouth hung open as he watch the spectacle before him, his own gut writhed at the sight at the twisted metallic carnage before him. He turned his eyes to the boy, who wore only a small smirk.

"W-who are you" Pitch stuttered out. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Just a spot of bad luck" He replied in a painfully fake British accent. The boy leaped backwards, his entire body engulfed in a majestic purple before being hurled backwards threw the glass window, not even shattering it, and into the mirror. The mirror instantly sprouted millions of long spider web cracks in its clear surface before exploding.

Pitch just stood there, rooted to his seat in the cold iron chair. He stared at the wreckage, opened mouthed. He watched as medics, police, fire trucks emerge from the darkness and surround the scene with artificial lights and noise. Pitch could practically smell their fear. Fear for the people inside mostly, but as the iron scrap was pulled away an entirely new sense of fear engulfed his senses. It sent warm ripples up his spine as he through his head back and moaning in pleasure. His golden eyes surveyed the scene looking for a source, until one of the fireman withdrew a girl from the wreckage. She couldn't have been more than five, with her long blond hair in two pigtails on either side of her head. She had a large cut on her forehead that gushed crimson blood, but was fine otherwise.

Pitch practically inhaled her fear. Where was Mommy? Daddy? Her brother? She was so scared of the lights and all the people around her she just wanted her parents. It was the best fear he had experienced in a long, long time.

The Boogeyman's eyes looked back to the spot where the boy sat and his eyes found the salt pile he was playing in, which now clearly displayed the message.

With Love,

Jynx Thirteen

Behind him, his Nightmare's hooves began to beat against the concrete once more, but this time Pitch Black wasn't afraid...not any more. And never again.