A/N, Summary: Post Things Change, Slade hunts down his former apprentice—for what purpose? When he finds her, it certainly won't be a peaceful encounter. Story will be distinctly Slerra in later chapters.
I've used details from the Teen Titans Go! comics as well as the original Teen Titans comics whenever they're relevant to the story but not spelled out in the television series. Anything else is made up by me. Obviously I didn't create Teen Titans.
He was watching Tara Markov, trying to determine whether or not she really had amnesia. In all honesty, he wasn't sure whether she'd noticed him or not—if she had she was ignoring him very nicely. He had his fake eye in so he didn't stand out, which was a plus. Still, he preferred his eye patch. His fake eye itched.
Watching her, he'd noted a few things. She didn't like physical contact, as if she were sore. She was not using 'Terra' casually as she had before, he'd seen her wearing a name tag that said, "Tara" on one occasion.
The bell rang while he waited at the street corner. Tara was one of the first out of the school's gates. He'd been watching her for weeks, but he hadn't followed her yet. Today he would.
He tailed her at a casual jaunt that was so unlike his normal gait that he was sure no one could have possibly recognized him for who he was. Tara wove through the crowd easily due to her twig-like figure, and he had to work to keep up. In time, the buildings and shops on the streets grew to appear more and more familiar.
She ducked into an alleyway so quickly he nearly lost her.
All at once he recognized the area of the city. He hadn't been here in ages. She wouldn't have, he thought to himself, realizing what was going on. But she had. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tara slide a rusted key into a rusted door on the side of a dilapidated building. She went in, and locked the door behind her.
He waited for ten or so minutes and then went to the door, pulled out his own copy of the key, and went inside the house, barring the door and locking the locks behind him. He dropped off his briefcase at the table. The place was cleaner than he'd left it, though there were still clues that a teenager lived here. He followed a trail of shoes and socks and books to what had once been the guest room. He looked inside through a crack in the door.
There, on the bed, sat Tara Markov, listening to her CD player with her back turned to the door.
He entered, cat-like, and grabbed her from behind with one arm wrapping around her neck and the other hand covering her mouth.
"Use your powers in here and the cops will be all over you," he said before she thought to use them.
Muffled, Tara responded with a yelp of surprise.
"Quiet!" He responded in an angry hiss. "The windows are open, you stupid girl. Now, listen carefully, Tara. I will let go. We will go down to the kitchen and have a nice, quiet, adult discussion."
She was shaking, but she made a small, affirmative noise. From behind he could not see her light blue eyes but he imagined they were wide. She always looked like a deer in the headlights when she was scared, he thought nostalgically. Slowly, he eased his grip. She shut the window and he saw her shudder as he grabbed her shoulder and steered her down the stairs to the kitchen and sat her at the table.
"I know you," she said with a stammer as he walked around the circular table and began unlocking his briefcase. He chuckled, and she flinched. From his briefcase he withdrew a laptop. He opened it and in front of Tara to show her surveillance footage from his lair. In the video, a blonde girl with sky-blue eyes fought a shadowy male figure with just half a face on his mask.
The girl at the table watched with interest. "She looks just like me," said Tara, still stuttering slightly. She laughed nervously.
He leaned over the table and glared at her. "It is you."
She said quickly, "No, that can't be—there was another guy who made the same mistake and—"
Slade Wilson slammed his fist on the table. Tara gave a tiny yelp of surprise.
He resisted the impulse to grab her throat and choke her until she told the truth. "It is you, dear child, and you made a promise to me a long time ago. I don't care if you genuinely don't remember it—it's a promise you will keep."
A/N: I appreciate the read. Any corrections, critiques, or even compliments are welcomed and encouraged.
