I've won. That's what's happened just now; I've won. I've followed my Master's orders, and everything has gone exactly according to plan. Jump City is ours, and the Teen Titans are history. I'm strong, incredibly strong, strong enough to mold and twist asphalt as if it were clay. I'm not hungry anymore. I know what my future holds (I'll follow my Master's orders, and everything will go exactly according to plan). By all accounts, I should be happy.

So why do I want to throw up?

"You've done well," he says, putting a gloved hand on my shoulder. I shiver with pleasure. For some reason, lately, praise has been like a drug to me.

"I'm just looking forward to seeing what happens next," I say.

The city is beautiful. I want to believe that it's beautiful. It's my work, after all. Maybe it's some kind of modern art; the kind in museums, that exists just because. I look for a pattern in the overturned cars, the deep gashes in the asphalt and the half-crumpled office buildings. Maybe, if I look at it from the right angle, the way that Titans Tower has slanted and buckled will become something to be proud of, instead of something that will keep me up at night.

He'll fix it, I think. You can't rule a broken city. He'll find a way.

–

I was playing make-believe, I think. I wanted desperately to be a hero, so I pretended to be one. Every earthquake, every mudslide, every injury and every collapsed building, they all happened because I wanted to be a hero so bad. I think I did more harm as a hero than a villain, actually.

When I was little, so little that I didn't even live in a desert, I saw heroes on TV. You know the ones; the ones with spandex and muscles and big smiles who rescue people from burning buildings and hang out in space. I thought I might actually be like that some day, believe it or not! Before I started collapsing, I mean. I thought that someone like me, someone really, really good at throwing rocks, could maybe become a hero.

I'm not going to pretend that what I'm doing isn't horrible. I'm also not going to pretend that I'm not having fun. Exertion makes my heart pound, it pushes anxious thoughts from my head, and each torn muscle is healed until it's stronger. Pain brings endorphins, fear brings adrenaline, and even shame is a little pleasurable if I think about it in the right way. I like being horrible. I was never supposed to be a hero.

...I liked being a hero, though. I was soft, and weak, and pathetic. But, sometimes, before I made a mistake and ruined everything, people would say my name like a prayer. One time, I kissed a baby. It was awesome.

Nobody wants a killer to kiss their babies, and I can't really blame them for that. I have enough right now. I'm not hungry anymore. I'm in complete control of my own powers. If I were a hero, right now, I'd be one of the big ones, maybe. The Justice League would knock on my door and ask if I wanted to join (even though I'm small and stupid and cowardly, they'd maybe look past that because they're heroes, and they're the closest things to gods that we have). And I'd say "yes," and I'd go with them and become braver and stronger than ever, and they'd praise me and say that I was a good kid, and they'd- they'd...

I don't want to be a hero. I'm a traitor and a coward and a pervert and a freak. A hero like that would do more harm than good. This is just easier.

In the end, I took the path of least resistance. I know that I'm a coward. I know that I'm pathetic.

I'm so happy.

–

The Teen Titans were super cool, I thought. I was easy to impress; the fact that they were nice to me was enough to make me adore them. Also, they lived inside of a letter. It takes guts to live inside of a letter.

I liked Raven a lot, actually. She didn't like me, but I liked her. She just seemed so controlled. Every one of her movements was so precise, and she always spoke clearly and calmly, and she even ate neatly. I even saw her smile a couple of times; when she didn't know I was looking, I mean. Beast Boy said something goofy and she grinned for a split second before going all stone-faced again.

I wish she'd never started to trust me. With the others, I felt guilty for taking advantage of their naivety. Even Robin, who'd been a little skeptical, was pretty easy to fool. Raven had taken what felt like forever. It was concentrated effort on my part to become her friend, or at least not be seen as a threat. I felt so proud and happy when she finally showed me that smile of hers!

I was thinking about that smile when I slammed her into the ground, repeatedly, with wave after wave of mud. I sure showed her. I showed her that I wasn't worth trusting. I laughed. There was dirt in my mouth. I kept laughing.

–

It's been a couple of days now. We haven't seen the Titans. At all. Crime is rampant, as you'd expect. Even the silly villains who have themed attacks and colorful costumes are doing surprisingly well (I guess the cops aren't enough, haha). My Master is still sending me on petty errands; "Get this, Terra. I need you to find this chip, Terra. There's a good girl."

I honestly don't know what my relationship to him is. Sometimes, he talks to me like he's my boss, or maybe my teacher. That's most of the time, actually. It's not a bad feeling. He's always clear in his instructions, and he only punishes me when I mess up.

Sometimes, he talks to me like I'm his daughter. When that happens, it takes a moment to register. There's affection in his voice. He's proud of me. I've grown, he says. I'm getting stronger. Soon, we'll be in control of the next city over, and then the next one. I'm a good kid. The praise is intoxicating. I lean against him; I crave physical contact.

When he's angry, he's kind of scary. That's a good thing. If he weren't scary, he wouldn't be in control. Control is the most important thing, I think. He's strong, too. One time, I thought he'd broken one of my ribs! We checked over later, and it was just bruised. I'd overreacted a little. He patched me up pretty well, too.

I'm probably the luckiest person in Jump City.

The only thing I don't really like about him is when he takes off his mask. When he does that, it's like he becomes a combination of all those things I was just talking about, with something more. Without the mask, he's real, if that makes sense. He's an adult man, with graying hair and a ruined eye and very large hands.

Adult men are heavy, when they're on top of you.

–

"Are you okay?" Beast Boy asked. I forced out a laugh.

"Of course I'm okay!" I said. "I'm just wondering when dinner is."

"It's 10 AM."

"Oops." I sprawled out luxuriously across the couch. I made an effort to look casual. He ate it up.

"Do you wanna play something?" he gestured at the GameStation.

"Hands are sore," I said. "Too many rocks."

He sat down next to me. His body weight bent the cushion. "You seem upset," he said. "Not- I mean, if you're upset, you can just tell me."

"When I'm upset, I like to be alone," I said. "If I were upset, I wouldn't be here with you right now."

He still didn't look convinced, but he picked up the controller anyway. I decided to take a moment to stare at him (he wouldn't notice; he was in the zone).

He was so soft-looking. I mean, it was crazy. I didn't think boys could look cuddly like that. He was all twiggy and baby-faced and I maybe liked him a little bit. At first, I was just a little put off by how green he was, but I got used to it. He said that it was because of his blood. He has green blood. He's super-cool.

I mean, not now. Now, he's the enemy. And he's probably dead.

Anyway, I also liked his teeth. They were mostly normal, but the pointy ones were amazing. I wondered if they ever made it hard to talk. What happened when he bit his tongue? Did it hurt? I kind of wanted to poke my finger with the tip of one of his teeth. I never asked to do that, because you don't just go up to a guy and ask to stick your fingers in his mouth. That would be weird.

His hair was all short and fuzzy, too. It stuck out at weird angles without him even having to try (I'd wondered at first, because of the time I caught Robin getting ready in the morning. He put a lot of effort into those spikes). He laughed really easily, he looked at me like I was an angel, and he never smacked me in the face, even when I was being annoying. He was nice. When people are nice, I'm a pushover.

...

After he figured out what I was, he looked so betrayed. I think he might have cried a little. I tried not to look too hard.

–

"Is something bothering you, child?" he asks when I come back with the power cell (robot armies need a lot of electricity, believe it or not).

"I'm thinking about the Titans," I say, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. "I'm not sure they're dead."

"Don't underestimate your own abilities," he says. "It keeps you from focusing."

"It's not that... It's just, they were strong. I've fought beside them before. They don't go down easily-"

"You think I don't know that, Terra?"

"Of- of course not!" I stare at my feet. I hope my tone of voice is appropriately deferential. "I'm just worried-"

"If you put your all into fighting them, you shouldn't worry," he says in a voice so calm that it's almost menacing. "Of course, if you held back, that's another story."

"I didn't. They would have killed me if I'd held back." They probably would have, all things considered.

"Good girl." I wish that I could read his face through that mask.

–

Fighting my old friends was really fun. I had to kind of psych myself up for it, but I did pretty well in the end.

I thought of all the ways they'd wronged me. I needed to hate them. If I didn't hate them, I would fail. I took a deep breath and combed my memories for pain and humiliation. I remembered the suspicious looks from Robin and Raven, and the way that they all stared at me every time there was the slightest seismic event. Cyborg always called me "kiddo," which was pretty condescending when I thought about it for long enough. Beast Boy made up a version of me in his head that I couldn't live up to.

Starfire... hadn't done anything wrong. She'd only ever been kind to me; even the bruises were by accident; she didn't know her own strength. I chalked it up to immaturity. She was older that I was (probably; she had hips), and she acted like a child. A child shouldn't have that much power. A child shouldn't be strong enough to kill people and wreck buildings without even-

I was strong. Incredibly strong. Strong enough to make the city my plaything. That wasn't what I was there to do, though. I was there to give the city to my Master, Slade. I was a child, small and stupid and confused. But I had high goals, and that was enough.

I recited those wrongdoings in my head. I made myself nice and angry, which made my heart beat faster, which made everything about me hot and shaking and not quite afraid. I focused on the texture of my gloves, the itch from the communicator in my ear. I was going to be okay. I knew what I was doing. I didn't need saving.

I tried not to look at their faces for too long at a time. Instead, I paid attention to my own signals. I loved the weight of the asphalt above my hands, and the taste of iron in the back of my mouth. I focused on the gestures of my opponents; not so much on who they were, but more on what they were. My palpitating heart meant I was excited. The way my back hurt meant I was pushing myself. The grin plastered across my face meant I was having an amazing time!

"You always were easy to fool," I said before I blasted Starfire with 2000 pounds of asphalt. A stupid prank that Beast Boy and I had pulled the week before flashed in my head. We'd replaced her shampoo with food dye. It had come right out, but she'd been really upset. She thought she was sick. We made her a cake to apologize.

I wasn't supposed to be thinking about that!

Robin was fun to train with. Even though he didn't have any superpowers, he always kept me on my toes. He said it was because of his mentor; I wanted to say, "my mentor does a pretty good job, too" but I figured that would be a bad idea. Instead, I just asked who his mentor was. He was like, "don't you watch the news?" and I was all, "my cave didn't get cable," and he was all, "mine did."

If I thought of fighting him like I thought of training with him, it was pretty tolerable. Since he wore a mask, I didn't have to look him in the eye. I focused on suspicion and condescension and accidental rudeness. He had been kind of right, but he shouldn't have been! He shouldn't have been, I liked him, I'd wanted him to be my friend, so why hadn't he trusted me? I trusted him! I slept while he was in the room! If that's not a sign of trust, I don't...

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!

I kept throwing rocks. Throwing rocks was what I was good at.

–

I'm hardly ever alone anymore, actually. I don't mind that. I've spent enough time alone to know that I don't like it. My Master is with me always, either in person or through the electrodes hooked up to my nervous system. He knows my body temperature, my pulse, and my blood pressure. It's safest and most efficient this way.

Most of the people in the city have evacuated. We didn't try to stop them. I mean, we'll keep on spreading out from here, right? If they move on to the next city, we'll take that one too. They can't get away from us. We're everywhere. It's their destiny; my Master being in complete control is the only possible ending.

I'm not worried about the future. I know who I am now. I feel good about myself, I think. Fighting is fun. In a physiological sense, it's fun. I love being told that I've done well, and I love that I don't have to worry about sneezing and setting off an earthquake. My life is perfect.

So why can't I stop crying?