The change was gradual, such that it'd be hard to notice unless you knew someone well. And coincidentally, anyone who even got close to knowing Cryptic was dead.

When someone's been alone for all their life, they become addicted to the solitude. They aren't that pleased with anyone trying to associate with them. And it was just this with Chester Cryptic, he hated all and every being on this earth... And he stayed alone.

It was because of this that the slow development of his own powers was nearly mistaken for strange occurrences. But these began to happen more and more often to a larger magnitude... Crypt realized he was changed, drastically.

It began in subtle ways, at the dark hours of night nightmares beyond anyone's wildest fantasies racked his rest, stripping him from all sleep he had. Certain colors in his vision grayed out occasionally, until the solitary color he could see was red. And at these times strange things happened around him, some he knew were reported into sanitariums and asylums.

And it was one day during one of these strange times, that the truth finally surfaced from the pool of denial it had been long since drowning in.

Cryptic slipped through the streets of the city like a wraith, his feet muffled by the murk, movements eerily graceful. He just so happened to come across a rather peppy looking person lively talking on his cell-phone, and eyeing the stores at the streets. He moved with the air of one who thought himself higher and more respectable than others, and it was just these people Crypt targeted.

As the man passed, the morose fourteen year old snapped him a piercing glare, his silver eyes directed their full strength on the other's hazel. Just as there eyes met Cryptic imagined some of the worst and terrible scenes involving the peppy man's deaths guessing his fears and weaknesses and explicitly fusing them into nightmares of the awake.

The cell phone shattered upon impact with the stone ground as the man sank to his knees in overly dramatic-at the time it seemed- agony and horrid fear. Clawing at his temples with manicured and clean nails, tearing and ripping skin until his fingers slipped with the blood welling up under them.

All the while the unlikely pair had their eyes locked, no matter what happened the man was frozen in the horrific glory of Cryptic's silver, murderous gaze.

People stopped their walking to watch the nervous breakdown, wincing in the gory scene that was occurring before their innocent eyes. Some dashed off, repulsed by the man ripping flesh form his skull in a mad attempt to pry those dreadful images form his mind...

Images projected by the one and only: Chester Cryptic Ulan.

Recoiling after watching the man with clear amusement, Cryptic staggered back several steps. A hand instantly fluttered to his eyes, breaking the contact. The man, having since gotten to the points of such hysteria that he had only three nails remaining on his once professionally done fingers, collapsed in a heap of cloth blood and distress.

It was then that Cryptic realized that he had done this. That, he.. He did THAT with his mind! His head reeled and he collapsed on the ground, fainted.

Memories fused with thoughts flitted through his slumbering mind, reminiscing of that fateful day in the park when he hid form the rain... It had all started then, realization hit Chester like a cinder block–

He had powers.

Ability to project hallucinations and thoughts into others minds through his eyes.

And when he awoke, several minutes later, Cryptic stood, and locked eyes with someone else... This time he just thought of the most disturbing sexual thing he could think of. The man reacted by wincing and blinking...

Confirmed– Cryptic had power...

Snapping back to reality, he noticed people were grouping, they'd mob him. He had to run. Now. Fast. So turning tail he did just that, fleeing the scene of his first victim.

--

A few hours later, sitting in an alley-way Cryptic mulled over the happenings that had just occurred. So, now he had power? Cool.... now what?

He'd have to find some way to advance and learn to control his power. It seemed eye contact was the key, so a pair of strong sunglasses would solve it. Know came the deep thinking, who would he use his powers against? Who did he hate more than ANYONE.

It struck Cryptic like the lightning that had started this mess- Titans.

The Titans, where their happy little lives in their massive tower, with the publicity, fame, and friends. Everything he didn't have and had once wanted... Once wanted before he murdered his conscience.

But... How would he do that? It'd be idiocy to try it by attack. He'd have to join them somehow. The thought repulsed Chester beyond anything before, but to reach his ultimate goal... He'd have to go through with it. But how he'd manage to join, this was another matter entirely.

So time for decisions came and Crypt did just that, planning and plotting his beginning their end.

--

It was several hours spent, hell-bent on his thoughts, until a plan formed into Cryptic's cynical mind. Though, it was no trouble considering he hadn't slept since his 'incident.' And little did he know– he never would again.

As day light drifted from the sky, and darkness took its shadowy hold upon the land, Cryptic made ready. His plot was simple, but would take some effort and control on his part.

With silent step, and wraith-like grace Chester moved through the damp and rat-littered streets, eyes darting to and fro searching for his victim. Finally his silver eyes met with a pleasant scene, a few gang members were prowling for a victim themselves. So, Crypt whisked off his sunglasses and walked up the tallest one who had the air of authority.

"Hey. You sewer scum find any good pickings in this hell hole?" Cryptic boldly sat and spat at their feet.

The man held back his cronies and buffed up his chest, a knife in one hand. "You talkin' to me dumbshit? Yer the only scum here you fag! Wanna say that to my face, huh? Y'too scared? Pipsqueak." he brandished the blade threateningly as he spoke.

Cryptic snorted at this, keeping his cool while inside he boiled. The one thing that easily pissed him off was the fact that he was rather... Short. "You know... When you don't know someone it's a bad idea to piss 'em off." Then he locked eyes with the gang leader and concentrated on filtering his power in small amounts. "Scared of me now bastard?"

The others flipped and tackled Cryptic, pummeling him to the ground. He took the beating with ease, all the while managing to keep a lock on the leader. Soon the prolonged affect of Cryptic's light assault started to affect the once high-and-mighty leader. And finally with a scream of pure terror as the images became worse and worse, the man cowered on the ground, smacking his head.

Eventually a froth began to emit from the man's lips and Crypt knew he had done well, injecting a final image to finish the man off. Of course, having guessed this would happen, the one-time gang leader took his own life, a switchblade shoved through his eye.

At this the others gasped in utter horror and stood back from the small gothic boy. Cryptic cackled as he sat up, sporting two blacks eyes a swollen lip and numerous cuts, "I told you it was a bad idea. See what happened to your little friend? He realized it a bit too... late."

The gang turned tail and fled, all save one. And this very one withdrew a semi-auto pistol form his tattered jacket. "Die motherfuckah'."

Crypt cursed, his last hope was the teen Titan coming soon or else he'd have to kill another and explain this second mysterious death. "HELP!" he scrame. "SOMEONE GET THE TITANS!" He yelled as loud as he could, hoping someone would hear... And hear they did.

They heard just as the armed man cocked his gun and pulled the trigger.