Encounter

What the hell. I like shooting myself in the foot. – Red X

-t-h-i-e-f-

Hero. If someone had so been possessed to walk up to Red X and boldly demand: Define the word hero, please. Give a clarification of the noun and lift the perpetual fog of confusion that seems to have taken residence in my mind. The thief would have – ignoring the fact he was suddenly speaking to a strange person who walks in blizzards – told them exactly the meaning of the word.

Hero: 1. a man of distinguished courage or ability admired for brave deeds and noble qualities. 2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or ideals.

In regards to that X thought something very philosophical like 'Yeah…whatever…' and also deduced that since a hero's status seemed to depend upon the opinion of others in said definition then in X's opinion Jump City had no heroes as of right now.

Now, lets flip-flop nouns and switch 'hero' with 'thief' and for a crazy, half-delusional, hypothermic moment pretend that the already illusionary questioner also decided to ask X the meaning of that word. The burglar, who could no longer feel his feet or fingers, would have replied something like this:

Thief: 1. a criminal who takes property belonging to someone else with the intention of keeping it or selling it.

Yeah. Not much more to it than that, despite all the romantic notions surrounding the citizens of the light-fingered community. Thieves pretty much did what they did because the money came quick and easy if you got good at your job. X had reached such a level of skill that few truly valuable things lay beyond his capable reach. However, for the young cat-burglar and (you could say) criminal mastermind, the rush meant more than the money. Duh…he already stole enough to retire off of and live the rest of his natural life in Tahiti if he so fancied.

So why keep going? (he thought this while glaring at the Titan communicator he'd stolen from the nightstand in Beast Boy's room) Why keep on stealing?

Standing there in the freezing wind, hugging himself, battered knuckles white under bloody stains beneath the suit's gloves, the young man suddenly seriously began to question himself. If not for his talents in taking things that were not his, perhaps he would have lived to see this Christmas without being hunted by and obsessive stalker demanding said skills for his own. Perhaps if he'd just toed the line in pre-school when Mrs. Iverson told him to stop taking Fruit Roll-ups from the pantry he would have become a different person.

Hey, maybe if he'd restrained himself when Principal Paxton turned his back in the fifth grade. Imagine he'd been caught in the act as a child and punished for it instead of having so much damn skill he naturally nicked anything he liked. Perhaps if he'd taken to another talent before thievery… photography for instance, he'd have dedicated his life to a very different first love. He'd always had a good eye for the extraordinary and abstract in the real world. But now, instead of capture it on film, he'd simply took it and looked at it when ever he chose.

The thief gloomily wondered. If he'd become a photographer would this maniac ever darkened his doorway? No. Course not. Who the hell stalks an artistic photographer? Nobody! X imagined Christmas without thievery as one filled with friends, (bleh…) family, (bleh…) food, warmth, (double yessssss) a social life (bleh…) and lots of love(dripping with sarcasm here)…

…and boredom!

The thief waved away the thoughts and focused on putting one aching foot in front of the other. None of it meant anything. X tended to live in the moment. The next instant food, drink, warmth and shelter became available to the fatigued larcenist, he would undoubtedly return to stealing anything not nailed down, motion sensor locked, lazar grid-lined and dog guarded.

"Ow," the burglar mumbled, opening and closing his right hand.

He sighed and raised his fingers to his bruised lips beneath the mask and breathed heavily to warm them. Steam fogged the air about his hand and glistened on the still oozing blood seeping between the tattered material. The sparkled of smashed circuitry and complex mobile, battle technology wired into the suit gleamed through the frayed cloth over his knuckles. The last couple rounds against Slade had busted a couple fingers, luckily in his right hand.

He sighed again and glanced crossly at the lofty Titan Tower, cold steel, cement and glass all dark in the blizzard's flurries. They wouldn't help, not that he'd really counted on it, but being able to crash in the T-car for a couple hours hadn't hurt him much and consuming an entire plate of fudge – the only thing left near enough for him to take without keen-eared Robin waking up – had somewhat filled the growling pit in his belly.

The one place he knew he could hide without being found out. X happily accepted the little it had to offer. The Titan's assistance, obviously not offered, but the security of their reputation allowed him the most dreamless sleep he'd had in almost two weeks. The back seat of the Titan's super-car happened to be stitched of the softest upholstery hero allowance could buy. Shamefully, he admitted to practically crawling in and passing out inside his enemies' vehicle. Simply knowing Slade couldn't touch him lulled him to sleep in a blinking.

Feeling refreshed if not a step over undead, X reasoned he could probably make it to Gotham if he hot-footed it. The blizzard, however, presented problem in that it closed all means of high-jackable transportation and hitch-hiking. He wouldn't survive another night on the streets. He knew he would either die in the cold or Slade would drag his partially frostbitten body out of some alley. Then the psychopath would teach him the tricks of the trade in joining the Dark Side.

He brooded a moment thinking arsenic laced thoughts like

Joy! I don't get to make a deal with the devil; the bastard just pops out of a hole and drags me the rest of the damn way down. Tch…Why bother me, huh? I'm a thief dammit; you don't need to coax me any further down the road to eternal damnation, thanks.

…

"Well…" he admitted allow, mostly to distract himself, "maybe that was being a tad pessimistic, but still…"

"Do you always talk to yourself or is that the hypothermia speaking?" inquired a drawling female voice.

Hmm….

X shrugged, not even bothering to turn and look at the dark girl hovering amid the snow flurries behind him. Rotating one arm in a wide circle he flexed his fingers experimentally and grimaced as a bolt of cranky pain ripped up his arm. The broken bones crouched evilly at the joints to his wrist and dared him to try that again. He chose not to and draped the damaged hand across his knee instead.

He grinned, though the girl could see nothing but the slight narrowing of the void eye sockets in his mask. He craned his head, swiveling about to study the cloak swathed figure floating about two feet over the fresh snow. A loose loops of dark ruby hung, glinting about her hips, gleaming from the clasp at her throat and both her wrists. X briefly estimated their worth at a couple hundred thousand if not priceless; knowing the dimension jumping Titan could have acquired them from something…less than human.

Raven, the theatrically dark and gloomy girl of the Teen Titan fighting force stared down at the thief through the dark shadows obscuring the upper half of her face in comfortable darkness. He knew from previous experience she possessed an unorthodox kind of charm to her ever-serious features, though she fell a marginal second to the extraterrestrial knock-out curled up on the end of the couch just upstairs.

Cold wind swirled up from the ocean waves causing her thick cloak to engulf her thin figure and adding a strange unearthly mystique to her appearance.

"Well?" she inquired and X felt the brow arch up beneath her cowl.

"Maybe, but if that's true then can you really trust anything I'm saying?" the thief chuckled.

Raven folded her thin arms over her breasts and frowned at the battered looking cat-burglar. "I wouldn't trust anymore than I can throw -,"

X arched one brow so high the eye-socket stretched. Raven paused to reevaluate her words and huffed, breath fogging on her thin lips and drifting away on the wind.

"Okay…so I can throw you pretty far. Bad example. Point is I don't trust you," Raven said in her elegantly bitter tones.

Dark eyes of cocktail lavender-navy traveled up and down his hunched figure. X grumpily reflected that he looked like hell froze over, micro-waved and sporked to death by a four-year-old. Except the 'four-year-old' happened to have huge strength enhanced muscles, a one-eyed mask, a creepy Jack the Ripper vibe and the strangest fetish for beating the living day-lights out of local cat-burglars.

Several holes gaped wide across his back where one of Slade's more violent attacks had launched him into a barbed wire fence and shredded the outer-lay of the battle suit. A delicate web of circuits and nano-tech glittered naked and exposed in the darkness. The entire suit, though it looked like simple black cloth, was in fact composed of complex electronic networks that ranged from speed boosters, vibro-portation technology, pressure release pads and shock absorbers all built silk flexible and equally weightless.

For all the good it had done him, X wished he'd just worn jeans, sneakers and a nice warm jacket. At least then he could worry about running instead of freezing.

"However," Raven went on. "I don't think you got the hard-ware beat out of you by any average gang-banger."

"You could say that," X replied.

The girl studied him a moment longer, agitating the burglar who waited patiently for her to make the first move so he could counter-attack. He simply didn't have the energy to make the initial effort tonight. However the young woman only drifted a couple feet lower and narrowed dark, orbs at him. Could she read minds? The thought unsettled the burglar and he began to mentally chant a series of song lyrics. Just in case.

"You're hand is broken," she said suddenly.

X glanced at his twisted fingers and then back at her. "Yeeee-aah?"

"You're whole hand is smashed."

"Only a few fingers."

Raven didn't say anything for a moment, glaring at him until finally she spoke again. "Did he hold you down and break them or did you punch him too hard?"

X twitched almost imperceptibly and Raven – in a very familiar fashion – picked imaginary lint from her shoulder.

"Both are plausible since Slade's…you know…a sadist or whatever, but if you think you're good I can go re-set the security and wait for your corpse to wash up somewhere," the remarkably cold-voiced teenager said, all while watching him. "Or…you can give me the zynothium ore and I'll think about letting you camp-out in the Tower."

The straight-forward offer plucked a chord somewhere in the thief's sense of humor and X suddenly double over laughing hysterically into a snowdrift. Raven, in contrast, frowned and allowed a low growl to emit from the back of her throat. Red X rocked back on his heels and threw back his head to stare up into the cascade of dancing flakes overhead, chuckling all the while.

"That's a good one, babe. But how about 'no'." X leaned backward far enough to glare up at her nearly upside down, dark skull-eyes narrowing. "I'm a big boy. I'll take care of myself."

"Not what it sounded like on the communicator," Raven returned, voice dripping in all her dark humor.

X shrugged. "No one's infallible. So sue me. I'm fine now, thanks for your concern though."

"My heart bleeds," she said in a voice one usually associated with agreeing to nail your foot to the floor, "but as much fun as it would be to watch Slade rip your arms out of joint-,"

"Been done," X broke in pleasantly. "Oh I'm sorry, Please go on. You're kinda hot when you're pissed."

Raven's turn to twitch came and she didn't miss out; her left eyebrow jerking in irritation. She opened her eyes –burning like mini gates to hell – and pinned him with a stare like voodoo needles. X only laughed his usual infuriating laugh and goaded her into a small rage that few could awaken within her. A couple pebbles beneath the snow imploded and Raven lifted a glowing black hand, a brittle smile on her lips.

"Keep talking and I'll make Slade seem cute as a button," she said sweetly. Then she glared and her voice grew murderer-ish. "Don't talk while I'm cutting you a deal or I'll cut something far more precious off your person."

X paused and wisely made no reply though about twenty lewd comebacks leapt to mind. He listened quietly, smirking to himself while the Titan lowered her hand and grew calm once again. Looking for all the world like a sagely teen she continued.

"I'll let you stay in the Tower out of the blizzard if you give me the belt and never leave my sight," she said flatly. "Tell me everything you know about Slade and I might let you walk out of the Tower without mental trauma."

X let her know just how much he liked her offer by examining his toes and doodling an inane little picture in the snow.

Raven clenched her hands and seemed to consider whether or not she could make him implode. X looked up with a bored kind of air about him and shook his head at her. The girl glowered at him, obviously not enjoying his sarcasm. Yet she still made no move to attack and like X said before he really didn't feel like starting a quarrel his ribs weren't up to. Yeesh. And he'd taunted Robin for taking life to seriously? At least he stressed about living; this girl looked willing to casually tango with the Grim Reaper.

"Alright, I'll bite. But first answer me one question." Raven seemed to be listening so he went on. "Are you crushing on me or do you just like inviting strange burglars into your high-security anti-crime headquarters?" X asked, sounding amused if not tired.

"I'll crush you if you'd like," she replied.

"Let me keep the belt and I'll come in," X said, hoping he sounded as obstinate as that had seemed in his head.

"You act like I want you in there!" she spat without actually getting angry. "Sorry to deflate your ego, but I'd rather eat a Stank-ball. I only want one thing from you, X"

The thief weighed horrible, nightmarish demise to getting in a good comeback and vouched for the comeback.

"Well, would you rather be on top or bottom? Because I prefer being on top."

The snow between X's knees exploded and a spray of white ice and the thief flipped backward in a fluid, but hasty, retreat. Raven loomed up in front of him with death in her expression as she eyed the lewd cat-burglar.

"Don't make me castrate you. You tell me everything you know about Slade and I'll make sure you live to see the New Year," she said. "You can keep the belt, but you have to wear cuffs. Fair enough?"

X considered the sheer stupidity of what he was considering. After a moment he laughed and offered up his wrists to the waifish Teen Titan.

"What the hell. I like shooting myself in the foot. Cuff me, babe."

-t-h-i-e-f-

Aqualad didn't usually ignore good advice.

He prided himself on possessing a quick wit and logical mind to keep up with his stream-lined physical performance. Umm…not to sound arrogant, but rather literally, the Atlantian had a very stream-lined physique. Honestly! It came from sixteen years of almost non-stop swimming through the depths of the ocean and chatting about swimming techniques with barracudas and dolphins.

The dark-eyed telepath didn't often dwell on physical appearance seeing how mirrors were taboo in the undersea world. Reflective surfaces caught the light and attracted dangerous predators.

Aqualad obviously had nothing to worry about as far as aquatic grudge-holding fish, but if he didn't sense it coming animals were animals and hungry flesh-eaters had no qualms about whose flesh they bit if not forewarned. Sharks weren't bright. They tested everything by biting it so Aqualad avoided unnecessary risk by simply not owning a mirror of any sort.

Anyway, back to the previous train of thought: Good advice and deciding to ignore it like he chose to now.

The water funneled and whirled in the teenager's wake as he swam swiftly through the dark, underwater world. His shoulder length mane of jet-black hair swept back off his forehead, rippling behind his head and shoulders as he shot through the water. His colorless, black eyes naturally adjusted to the darkness associated with deep undersea swimming. The tiniest glitter of light in the night sky prismed through the water and gave the lone Atlantian visibility in what would otherwise be a lightless world.

Flashlights weren't recommended in the ocean either; too many edible and bioluminescent fish to risk it.

Aqualad frowned and drifted to a slow stop as the dark, tangled silhouettes of human nets and inert combing machinery loomed and glittered in the water before him. Raven's words rang true in his mind coupled with a pang of resentment toward the land dwellers. 'Combing' the seafloor stood as one of the most selfish and destructive of land-human economic habits.

They first netted off the chosen area to prevent boating traffic. Then they dropped long, metal rods with sharp teeth horizontally on one end and dragged it to the other, raking up all the valuable seafloor life: coral reef, small, delicate ecosystems, and small, slow moving bottom-feeders. Merchandise in land-dweller language. Unfortunately, it seemed several dolphins got themselves caught up in the netted area. Their distressed chattering had been filling the underwater currents for hours and the entire bay had become agitated by the human disturbance.

Naturally, he went to investigate. Dolphins happened to be some of the most intelligent and friendly animals in the ocean. The teenager had a special kind of compassion toward the playful creatures and usually went out of his way to help them. From what the local dog-fish population had seen the mammals couldn't be more than a couple months into young adulthood and inexperienced where humans were involved.

The Atlantian kicked forward andtangled his fingers through the wide netting. Leaning close, he peered through the loops of knotted rope and squinted about for any sign of life. The waters pressed silently against his ears, the voices of the local sea-life silenced by the hushed fear of humanity. Nothing. He pumped his legs, slicing through the water to his left, moving toward shore.

Hello? he thought loudly into the vast forests of poorly roped netting. I heard someone asking for help? Are you caught in the nets?

No reply.

Aqualad's anxiety doubled. Dolphins needed air every fifteen minutes. If they stopped responding, perhaps their time had run out before he reached them. Sudden panic made the Atlantian abandon self-preservation and he quickly kicked for the surface. Breaking the surf a moment later he gasped, lungs instantly reverting to secondary muscles built to accept pure oxygen. A swirling world of black sky and falling whiteness momentarily stunned his eyes, but he recovered and knifed through the waves for the buoys, making the nets' location.

He snatched a handful of the netting, gathering the top of the ropes and pulling himself over the netting and into the quarantined combing section.

Plunging back into the water, he shot through the water like a black-haired missile, bee-lining for the shallows where he'd last hears the distressed dolphin's mind. Where? Where? Where! The Atlantian spun about, bubbles trailing from the young man's lips as he searched the empty water desperately for the dolphins he knew he heard. Hoping beyond hope to hear them, the telepath touched his fingertips to his temple and focused on spanning his mind through the wide-carrying ocean currents.

Hello? Are you there? Please answer me, I want to help, he said into the watery void around him.

"…"

Then…a faint, reverberating clicking.

A faint chatter of dolphin thought echoed weakly in the articulated waterways. Aqualad shook his head, startled by the message in the animal's speech. Flipping smoothly, the Atlantian reversed and torpedoed through the water for the shoreline.

The water brightened so suddenly the teenager threw an arm up to shield his delicate eyes until they adapted to the luminance of the shallows. The rocky bottom inclined sharply upward and the aquatic Titan surfaced just under the nearly vertical face of a rocky cliff. The tide-line was low and the steep rock wall twice it's usual over the waterline. Undaunted, the teenager grabbed the first jutting rock and pulled himself out of the water, scaling the cliff face with slow, but steady confidence.

He didn't have great land legs, but he knew enough to let his natural strength get the job done. Going carefully, the kindhearted Atlantian boosted himself over the cliff's edge and found what he'd been searching for. Lying, belly-down, draped in heavy, water logged towels sat the two missing dolphins.

Sighing in relief, Aqualad lurched to his feet and walked over to kneel beside the two frightened creatures. Finding the younger one, he calmed the panicked mammal, stroking the rubbery skin of its smooth gray head and soothing frantic thoughts with calming words of his own.

"Hey, buddy. It's okay now. I'll get you guys back in the water. It's too dry for you out here and too cold for me," he said, rubbing the animal's nose.

Round, black orbs stared up at the Atlantian with the child-like trust of an animal. He smiled and turned to the second dolphin, wondering how he'd move two adolescent dolphins all by himself. He hardly noticed –nor cared to – the broke down docking and warehouses behind him or the dark outline of long abandoned shipping crates.

"Working alone?" inquired a drawling male voice.

Aqualad spun so fast, the snow sprayed up and rained down again, sprinkling his long, dark tresses and glittering against the mid-night black strands. Fists up, legs braced for attack the teenager didn't look for an instant like he'd spent his life in the water instead of solid ground. His obsidian eyes narrowed as a shadowy figure broke away from the shadows of the nearby wharf and stepping out of hiding.

"I always work alone," he said emphatically, circling away from the man as he approached.

"That's too bad," said the stranger, his deep voice, haunting and almost hypnotic. Aqualad didn't trust that voice and backed up yet another step, keeping some distance between them. The stranger's body glittered, or rather the silver body armor strapped across his broad chest and shoulders. His entire body clothed in black and equipped with combat tech didn't ease the Atlantian's mind in the slightest.

"Did you do this?" he demanded, gesturing to the stranded dolphins. "Well? If you did you'd better have a really fantastic explanation or I'm going to seriously ruin your Christmas."

The man stopped a couple yards off and chuckled, folding powerful arms and watching him through the falling storm of white flakes. The featureless metal of the mask glinted and Aqualad gasped in realization. Robin's weekly crime reports rarely came without some mention of the former criminal mastermind whether in direct relation or some obscure connection to the man – if one considered 'man' the proper pronoun – who seemed to have his hand in every niche of crime in Jump City.

"You're Slade," Aqualad said, lowering his arms and glaring at the criminal. "You're supposed to be dead. Robin's reports-,"

"Are greatly exaggerated," the man interrupted. From the short distance between them the aquatic teen could see the cruel glint of his single eye on the left half of his mask. Suddenly, he felt a hot anger so blinding the level-headed young man barely restrained his urge to leapt at the adult and punish him for the horrors he'd inflicted upon his friends, human and animal alike. The Atlantian managed to rein back his sudden blood-lust and instead kept talking.

"What do you want? Dolphin-napping seems below you," he said shortly.

"Oh, it is," Slade laughed, his audible amusements dancing through the night air and slithering across Aqualad's ears like warm oil. Suddenly he cut off his laughter and went horribly still. "But real kidnapping – though somewhat old fashioned – is not beneath me, Atlantian."

The dark-eyed boy tensed, bracing himself for a fight. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing. Only your voice," the man said and began walking toward the teenager, malicious intent radiating from every line and contour of his body. Aqualad, instincts vibrating, stepped back toward the edge of the cliff, preparing to dive off and escape the psychopathic terrorist. The man chuckled again, making the boy's skin crawl and stopping him momentarily. Slade pulled a small black object from behind his back, two small prongs glinting menacingly.

The aquatic Titan halted, his entire body freezing in a way unrelated to the snow.

Slade seemed amused and he fondled the weapon. A low buzzing whine floated through the cold air, carried on the biting wind to fill Aqualad's skull with the noise. Sparks leapt from betwixt the two metal prongs, casting pale flashes across Slade's unfeeling mask and exposing the sadistic glitter in his gaze.

"You know what a tazer is then. Good," he said in a slow and friendly manner. "Now, being such an expert on undersea life…"

Slade broke off and crouched next to the first, youngest dolphin and lowered the electrified currant passing through the prongs, dangerously close to the animal's dripping, and water-drenched skin. The teenager gasped, a soft 'no!' escaping his lips before he could think to prevent them. Slade stopped short, eyes on the rigid and wide-eyed Atlantian.

"What do you think one-thousand volts could do to a wet dolphin? Stop its heart? Make its arteries implode perhaps?" He gestured with the tazer, wide gaze alight with insanity. "Would you like to see?"

"No! Don't!" the teenager shouted. He stepped away from the edge of the cliff and raised his arms non-threateningly. "I won't run. I promise. Please don't."

"Come here, then dear boy. I'll spare the animals only if you obey everything I tell you," he said as if merely discussing a slight issue of conflicts betwixt them. "Come here and do hurry. I think the cold is making me shiver. Wouldn't want a slip, would we?"

Burning, but helpless to his own compassion, the Atlantian slowly moved to obey. Hands curled into tight fists, a muscle along his jaw-line jumped as he gritted his teeth in hapless rage. Slade's eyes narrowed and he flipped the tazer off. Aqualad sighed slightly, breath fogging. The criminal seemed to smile beneath the mask and reached out a hand to lay it almost gently across Aqualad's head, palm easily covering the top of his skull.

The boy cringed, and clenched his eyes shut, shoulders taunt with rage.

"Let the dolphins go," he whispered, voice husky.

"Done. Now keep your eyes closed."

The hand on top of his head slowly pushed him down, obviously looking to put him on his knees. Instinctively, Aqualad struggled to stay standing, pride refusing to go down before anyone. Slade's fingers became claws on his scalp, raking across his head and grabbing up a handful of his glossy, black hair. The Atlantian groaned sharply, and clenched his teeth in pain as the man's hold twisted his head to one side. Suddenly, Slade wretched him down with such spontaneous power the boy lost his footing and fell hard. His cheekbone smacked the icy ground and white stars exploded through his vision.

"Better. Now give me the Titan communicator on your belt or I can break your neck this time."

The gentle voice didn't match. A large hand wrapped around his neck and lifted Aqualad from the snow, choking him as he groped at Slade's wrists. The teenager's lips mouthed silently, no air passing his tongue as the man throttled him. No, Slade needed his voice or something, right? He wouldn't actually kill him.

Aqualad hung in desperately for almost fifteen seconds.

You know…seconds become centuries when you're choking.

Aqualad had never choked or been deprived of air before in his entire life. Obviously he couldn't drown so holding his breath had never seemed a wise skill to practice. He never understood how men, who go under for only a moment, could drown. He never quite grasped the sensation of time stretching just for your personal torment. He discovered this horrific fact first hand and Slade didn't miss a single moment of the Atlantian's growing terror. When the grip did not slacken the teenager finally panicked.

Abandoning every thought or logical process the telepath exploded into a flurry of violent motion. Punching and kicking with the frantic abandon only a drowning victim can understand, Aqualad, for the first time, realized the horrific reality of suffocation. Slade, however, didn't budge an inch no matter how powerful the punch or devastating the kick, he only stood there, fingers squeezing tighter and tighter. Aqualad beat his fist uselessly against the larger man's chest armor. Fingers numbing on the steely surface as his lungs burned with pain he hadn't known possible.

Slade leaned down over the dying Atlantian, lowering his featureless mask intimately close to the young man's, pale, but striking face. His gaze never left that of the teen in his grasp, fascinated, it seemed, by the desperation and primal fear in his obsidian eyes as life fled his body. Aqualad twisted, lips forming a silent cry for help as very real tears burst from those eyes.

"So strong…" he murmured softly. He seemed to relax his grip, letting Aqualad slide back and allowing him to tiniest taste of a breath, "but still only children…all of them."

He tightened the hold, thumb sliding up the side of the boy's damp neck and his victim's head fell back, face forced up as Slade accessed the rest of his throat. He was going to crush his trachea.

Unable to speak, or break the murderer's hold on him, Aqualad did the one thing he could possibly do.

He screamed.

The soundless, sonic explosion of mental speech launched the entire ocean into chaos for miles around. Dolphins keened and chattered in pain, their own vibration language impeded by the sudden, deafening roar in their brains. Schools of fish scattered in flashing darts of scales, confused and lost. Whales breeched the surf against and again, throwing themselves clear of the watery constrains where the boy's screams resonated through the waves.

Whaling ship off the shore rocked violently as the giant animal threw themselves against the bow of the boat, crashing into the heavy vessel in manic desperation. Sharks flew into frenzies as the telepath's agonized, scream dominated every aquatic mind for miles.

-t-h-i-e-f-

Author's Note: Sorry for being late. I was otherwise preoccupied. (Video games…must beat Prince of Persia…must Beat Tales of Symphonia…must PLAY!) Ahem…Thanks for all your reviews. I hope you liked the update. Slade's evilness will not stop at just X. Start sweating. I have no idea how I should end this…