Identity Crisis

Betcha you could tell me my favorite color and shoe size too, huh? – Red X

-t-h-i-e-f-

He woke up to a world of brilliant and blinding lights, instantly burning starbursts into the back of his retinas. The pain forced him to squint into the bright radiance. Wincing, he lifted and arm to shade his eyes from the glowing explosion of multi-hued illumination refracting through the water around him. After a moment of suspended animation the initial shock of the luminance began to fade.

Blinking rapidly, the aquatic young man lifted a hand to rub at his star-dazzled eyes, the lukewarm liquid around him shifting and swirling with his sudden motion. His looked around him, a stream of bubbles slipped from his mouth as he looked this way and that in search of some substantial landmark. What was this place? For a horrifying moment, he couldn't remember anything, where he was, what he'd been doing that day, his name…nothing. In a sudden panic, he kicked his legs powerfully and tried for the surface that logic dictated would be there and shot upward through the water.

Logic had nothing on this kind of situation…unfortunately for him.

He got roughly three feet and the top of his head crashed into a thick metal sealing cap of some sort. Head ringing, the teenager clutched his skull tightly in pain, feeling a bruise and a lump rising out of his scalp. For a moment he drifted inertly through the water, eyes dazed, brain scrambled. Then the back of his neck bumped into something cold and smooth, followed by the rest of his body, bouncing gently off the barrier in the low gravity of water.

The dark-eyed Atlantian (he did remember that much about himself) spun about, eyes growing wide in his good-looking face. He kicked himself forward and his palms met a cold plexi-glass wall, unblemished and gently curved beneath his splayed fingers. Through the murky distortions of light and crystal he could just make out the shape of steely computers, flickering screens and data read outs running mechanically throughout the dark room around him.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back. All the memories of the night before, Christmas Eve, going on patrol, Raven's warning; it all burst through whatever dam had held it back and flooded his brain. Aqualad sucked in a quick breath of water, pressing the heel of his hand against his pounding forehead. The dolphins, snow falling, he kept seeing this horrible mask, no air, and worst of all…Aqualad dropped his hand from his face, feeling a hot wash of hatred rush through him.

Slade.

Spinning a full one-eighty in the water he kicked off the glass behind him and knifed through the water…only to crash into the opposite side of the container. Stunned momentarily he sank through the water toward the bottom of the cylindrical tank. The crisscross metal mesh filtering the water vibrated gently beneath him as he jerked out of his daze, sudden urgency making him think more clearly.

The Atlantian turned himself over in the water and braced his feet against one side of the tank, then his hands against the other. Tensing, the teenager grunted and using every cord of muscle and sinew in his body tried to straighten out and force a crack in the plexi-glass. His enter body, though consisting of nothing but bone, muscle and strength born of an active lifestyle couldn't even get the stubborn tube to groan.

Attempt failed he stopped pushing and righted himself in the water. This time he planted his feet against the water and rebounded off the glass like a launched missal and rammed his shoulder against the opposite wall. The plexi-glass shuddered violently under the impact but didn't break.

Hopeful, the Atlantian pushed of the vibrating glass, planted his feet against the same wall and rammed his body against the clear wall once again. The entire frame of the tube shuddered and rocked, but remained thankfully anchored to the ground despite his escape efforts. Aqualad repeated this tactic of repeated rebound and ram for about five minutes.

Finally, after his twenty-fifth attempt, the exhausted teenager admitted defeat and let himself drift, neutrally buoyant through the warm liquid around him. Vying for a different, less abusive tactic, Aqualad grimaced to himself and looked upward. The soft greenish light issuing from the monitors outside the tank provided light enough to glint from the circular face of the hatch overhead.

Both sore and growing ever more despondent, the aquatic Titan kicked up to the top of the tank and ran sensitive fingertips along the cold metal surface. Nothing. Water tight even. The teenager back-paddled to a lower region of the water and floated there a moment, trying to judge the water pressure in the tank and whether or not the plan stewing in his head would really work…or was even worth trying. Feeling cornered, he took a breath to steady himself. Once gathered, he clenched his hand and stabbed his arm up through the water, obsidian eyes intense and focused, as if he would strike and shatter the heavy metal entry with his bare hands.

The water around him suddenly shifted and as if sucked by some incredible vacuum, formed a sudden and powerful current up toward the rim of the hatch. All the water in the tank, once unresponsive liquid had suddenly come to life with the purpose of charging and escaping the watery plexi-glass prison around him. The crest of water, though invisible save for a translucent ripples inside the tank, crashed up against the top of the tube, nearly tripling the water pressure inside the tank.

The glass groaned beneath the strain, metal casing about the base trembling as the tube holding the Atlantian began to strain.

Inside the tank, said Atlantian had began to shake and shudder, his outspread arms trembling with the strain of maintaining such a catastrophic amount of pressure. Already the infuriatingly durable container had stood up to pressures equal to that the oceans around Atlantis endured. Aqualad ground his teeth as the shaking in his arms doubled and the pressure increased, causing the glass to shudder, and vibrate ferociously, roaring and groaning under the force of the water.

If Aqualad hadn't been both strong and a seasoned Atlantian diver, the forces he'd created would have crushed his chest cavity into a bloody pulp and ground his bones to a fine, damp dust. However, to survive living in the harsh environments of the deep ocean, the residents of Atlantis had long evolved and adapted to the greater pressures thousands of leagues beneath the ocean's surface. However, the weight of the water around him had grown thick in his lungs, his body constricting in on itself as the force of the waters and his strength fast giving way.

In a last ditch effort, he shouted as loud as he could and both mentally and physically 'shoved' outward, his arms thrusting wide as his powers exploded inside the tank.

Unable to withstand the Atlantian's almost inhuman fortitude, the glass shattered like a dropped wine glass, erupting outward like a volcano of water. The metal hatch rocketed around the room as if launched from the barrel of a gun and glass shards embedded themselves in machinery or burst against the walls nearby.

Exhausted and gasping, Aqualad slumped to his knees on the metal-mesh platform, the vibrating filters still trying to filter non-existent water. The last of the liquid ran in thin streams down the sides of the steel podium, pooling around the base of the platform. Arms shaking and completely sapped of all strength, he could barely support his own weight while hunched over on the floor.

A moment of heavy breathing, followed by a breathless: "Well, that was fun…"

"Well, well. You've managed to break my toy," remarked a low, masculine voice from the shadows somewhere, sounding both aggravated and impressed. "I hadn't expected that kind of strength or obstinacy from a water-dwelling environmentalist. I applaud you."

The glimmer of victory and momentary hope snuffed out and Aqualad had a brief vision of Slade's boot stomping his head in. Suffice to say, said boot left a disappointed void to fill quickly with despair as the young Atlantian raised his head from his arms, strings of thick, black hair hanging in dripping strands from his shoulders and in his face. A figure stepped out from behind a nearby machine which spat dying sparks into the flickering lights about the room. The two-toned mask of Slade glinted in the fading light and the aquatic Titan heaved a bleak kind of sigh, part hopeless, mostly irritated.

Aqualad ran a hand through his hair, raking stray waves of inky strands from his eyes and managed to, with a slight tremble, push himself to his knees and sit up straight. Lifting his head, the handsome teenager managed a lenient kind of smirk at his captor though his well tanned skin had paled to a more sickly shade of parchment.

"Gee. I always want to be applauded by a murderer," he leered elegantly.

"Murderer? Dear boy, I simply test those I think are of potential. Those who fail…" Really ugly pause here. "Are not my problem."

Aqualad smiled thinly. "You really think no one will look for me, don't know? I may work alone but I'm never really alone, Slade."

The man seemed to smile through the mask, dark eyes glinting menacingly. "I never doubted it. Your friend Bumblebee should be receiving a tip off on an over the sea drug exchange. She'll be calling you for some back up right about…now."

Right on cue, an irritating ring tone pranced out on the airways. Aqualad started slightly and Slade leisurely reached behind his back and produced none other than Aqualad's Titan communicator. The boy's eyes grew round as the radio bleeped again into the electric silence around them. For a moment only the gentle sound of his ragged breathing could be heard, broken occasionally by the piercing Titan ring tone.

Slade stood there calmly, just watching his guest squirm uncomfortably. The ring tone sounded again and Slade finally pressed the open signal button. A moment later the familiar spunky and irritated voice of Bumblebee carried over through the mouthpiece.

"Hey! Aqualad? You there? Pick up I just got a hot tip," she said enthusiastically, if not a bit confused. "Are you there?"

Slade released the open signal, so nothing got back through to the perplexed female Titan.

"Decision time, Atlantian," said Slade evilly. "You can either calmly tell her you're just fine or…whatever else you choose to say. Frankly, I don't care either way. I'm in control here, Aqualad."

"Go to hell!" he snarled.

"Well, excuse me!" spat Bumblebee's voice. Aqualad clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. "Not like I needed your help anyway, fish boy! Have a nice Christmas!"

"Oh," said Slade regretfully as the line went dead. "I must have accidentally hit the open radio switch. Terribly sorry. Now no one knows you're gone."

The Atlantian shook his head, lost and confused, but secretly knowing that even if Bumblebee didn't know he'd gone missing…Tramm would. "Why are you doing this?" he hissed. The water pooled around his wrists trembled imperceptibly. Aqualad felt his skin breaking into a cold sweat. "What possible reason could you have?"

Slade carefully placed the communicator on the top of the nearest smoking computer as if to taunt him. He chuckled casually at Aqualad's trepidation and stepped across a fallen monitor. The boy tensed and the puddles around the room twitched anxiously, but indiscernibly and he slowly pushed himself back off the platform and onto the floor, legs threatening to buckle beneath him as he placed his full weight on them. Tremors of shivery fatigue running up and down his arms and legs, the aquatic Titan backed up as Slade maneuvered through the debris toward him.

"Why are you keeping me here?" the teenager snarled, sidestepping a shattered computer.

Slade only continued to move toward him, circling the broken tank and narrowing his dark eyes. Memory of their last encounter zipping like a slide show through his head, the Atlantian hastily leapt back and fell back against the far wall, face harsh with sudden determination.

"Keep back!" he threatened, voice dangerous and husky. "Touch me and I swear I'll drown you!"

Slade laughed, voice wavering and echoing. "Doubtful, Atlantian. You could have never defeated me at full strength and certainly not weakened as you are." He stopped, spreading his arms out to gesture all around them. "There are no marine creatures here to help you. In the ocean you may be a threat of the highest caliber, but here you're just a fish out of water."

The 'fish out of water' managed a quirky kind of grin.

"And I'll bet anything you're a lousy swimmer," taunted Aqualad, his black eyes growing wicked.

His hand shot up and with it the placid waters pooled on the floor burst into life. The liquid exploded up from the stone like droplets of liquid predator and pounced at Slade, condensing into a single, giant snake of water and falling like some aquatic demon on the murderer. Aqualad, with a warm feeling of satisfaction, watched Slade's eyes grow wide right before the crest of water crashed down across his head and shoulders, sweeping him away in a frothing current of liquid.

Aqualad grinned wearily and dropped his arm, praying his assault had proved enough to at least stun the murderer. Body quivery with both adrenaline and fatigue, the teenager struggled to his feet, water dripping from his blue body suit and slowly receding into it natural state of unresponsiveness. Through the corner of his eyes, he could make out the eroded hole his sudden geyser had smashed into the far wall, taking Slade with it.

Stumbling clumsily over generator cords to machines he had no idea how to work, the dark-eyed Titan staggered and fell, his knees buckling halfheartedly under his weight. Too exhausted to care, Aqualad, crawled through the mess of cords and broken electronics to the darkened computer across the room.

Reaching up a quaking arm he managed to grab the rim of the cold metal machine and painfully lever himself up. The bright yellow casing of the Titan radio shown bright against the dankness around him and he snatched the precious device with a breath of relief.

"I'll get hold of the Titans. They know how to handle Slade," rasped the Atlantian, hitting the speed-dial for Beast Boy's communicator and silently thanking the changeling for his weekly swimming routine on which he always called and invited Aqualad.

He listened as the ring-tone sounded. There was a pause, and then the ring tone rang again. A sudden pang of apprehension lanced through his chest and he anxiously cast his gaze over his shoulder, scanning the room for Slade, should the criminal master mind return. The room remained cold, dripping and empty even as the tone sounded a third time, shadows looming menacingly around the lone Atlantian.

"C'mon, c'mon, pick up. Pick up, Beast Boy. Pick up," he chanted feverishly, eyes darting around the room.

Click.

'Thank God!' Aqualad thought, breath leaving his lungs in a rush and he opened his mouth to tell Beast Boy what had…

"Hullo," said a perfectly cheerful, distorted and not Beast Boy voice. "You've reached the Teen Titans, we're not available to save and/or come to your rescue. Please hold and remember… your call matters."

And he hung up.

"The hell!" he shouted in horrified rage, stunned absolutely speechless. "Who in the name of Poseidon and Hades was that?"

"My apprentice," replied a nastily familiar voice. "Oh, and my gratitude, Aqualad."

The communicator was plucked from his fingers and the boy spun around to come face to face with Slade's featureless mask. Pitiless eyes narrowed, water trickling down the cool metal surface. He eyed his surprisingly resourceful captive. "I would have never suspected him to hide at Titan Tower. Now, thanks to you, I have means with which to contact him."

Feeling sick, Aqualad just sat there and stared up at the larger man, feeling particularly helpless in addition to ill. Slade slid the communicator away and crouched in front of the soaking Atlantian, water dripping from his body armor as he leveled his glare at the younger male. The teen grimaced, and narrowed his eyes, locking his jaw while fighting not to freak out.

"Now…there is the little matter of your breaking all my equipment, washing down my head-quarters, and trying to drown me," he said calmly, regarding Aqualad with a serene kind of gaze. "I can't have that kind of rebellion so I contacted a mutual friend of mine and he was kind enough to give me this."

On the words 'this' he lifted his hand in front of the boy's pale face. Held between his fingers, was what appeared to be a small silver hexagon. Set in the centre of the silver hexagon glittered a smooth, letter 'H'. Black eyes flew wide in horror and the Atlantian instantly recognized the symbol from the hundreds of police records, data files and snitch-reports he and Bumblebee had poured over the last couple months. His heart ricocheted off the inside of his ribcage as Slade snatched his shoulder and slammed him up against the computer consol.

He clapped his hands over his head, trying to shield himself.

"NO!" he cried, desperately trying to pry the man off him, but Slade simply had more strength.

His hand darted forward like a striking snake and Aqualad felt a sharp sting at the base of his skull, just beneath his hairline. A static buzz vibrated up his neck, cuing the device's activation. Seconds before the control frequency began, the Atlantian grappled madly with his captor, kicking and punching frantically until, suddenly all reason, need or want to do anything of the sort erased itself from his mind. The teenager shuddered and sank backward.

He mouthed something, lips moving silently as his identity gave one last dying twitch before succumbing to the siren song of the HIVE hypnosis.

Once ebony eyes glowed momentary crimson and faded back to inky black, calm and somewhat inquisitive as expected of all HIVE students. Slade released the teenager and stood, offering the younger man a hand up. The Atlantian smiled and took the presented aid, allowing himself to be pulled up, still shaky from his foolish escape attempt that suddenly he had no idea why he'd tried.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause all this trouble. I didn't understand," he apologized, genuinely mortified at his behavior. He ran a distressed hand through his hair and look up unhappily. "Forgive me, Headmaster."

Slade smiled forgivingly beneath the mask and clapped the aquatic teenager on the shoulder, as if he were a favored and long-time pupil and not the boy who tried to kill him in an escape attempt only moments before. Aqualad looked relieved and let the criminal master-mind guide him toward the doorway on the opposite side of the room.

"Don't concern yourself with it," he said understandingly and wise. "How are you feeling, Aqualad?"

The HIVE student (unknowingly a former Titan) rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Fine, Headmaster. Thank you."

"Good." Slade smiled again. "And I'd prefer it if you just called me 'Master'."

-t-h-i-e-f-

X's reaction, to say the least, wasn't good. He snapped the device off and actually lifted his arm as if to smash the radio and the voice that had issued from it into oblivion. Not very smooth. In fact, roughly a millisecond after he reacted, he kicked himself for it and sat in bated breath, waiting the recall he felt coming. Snow fell softly around him, the lingering memory of a once terrifying blizzard gone wimpy and petering out. X shuddered, feeling abnormally lightheaded and horrified by the implications this new complication aroused for him. Unpleasant trickles of nausea writhed somewhere in his belly, making his usually sound nerves jumpy as a jitter-bug all over again.

For him to know…to have figured it out…

It meant all that time he'd snuck around, laid low, played it safe, plotted, schemed and robbed under the false pretense of such secrecy and shadow; all that time someone else had followed him, watched and studied him under a magnifying glass, all while keeping below the burglar's radar. Once again, the cocky part of himself so used to having everything fall into his lap screaming something like 'WHAT THE UNHOLY TACO-TART! How the hell is this freak pulling this off?'

…couldn't tell you where the taco-tart came from…

X felt his right hand give a small, involuntary tweak he hadn't troubled his thoughts with about since elementary school. He stared down at his treacherous hand for a moment, feeling an ill omen in the tiny muscle spasm. Then, as if to add to his discomfort, that freaking, abomination of a ring tone sounded again.

After a second, more voluntary twitch of the eye, he flicked the thing open, thankful when no holo-image appeared with it.

"Hey, there!" he began pouring on cheerfulness he didn't feel. "Sorry about not calling, but you know, the holidays. Hectic: traffic, sadistic relatives, bad fudge and all that jazz. And you know I could have sworn I heard you call me something strange? Brandon or something like that?"

"Oh no. Nothing quite so common," replied that familiar, hypnotic - but not because it was so terrifying - voice. "Bannon?" Here X performed a spastic, Shakespearian death-scene cringe and still managed not to make a sound. "Very unique, quite roguish. I suspect your parents were eccentric?"

"On my mum's side. Wait until you hear my middle name. It's a real kick in the head," laughed the burglar while his stomach churned unhealthily.

"Yoko? Japanese fox spirit? Legendary for intelligence, slyness and penchant for thievery?"

The criminal's right had had a miniature seizure, and stiffened, jerking as if electrocuted from the elbow down. He cursed softly, but inaudibly to his tormentor on the other end. Shaking out his hand he furled and unfurled it experimentally and took several lung-deepening breathes.

"That's the one. Gee, the man does his homework," X cheered on the criminal mastermind. "Betcha you could tell me my favorite color and shoe size too, huh?"

Velvety chuckles slithered through the communicator. "Hardly, but I thought after the last fiasco with my apprentice I'd have to execute more than one tactic of persuasion to win you over to my cause."

"Hmm," said X, standing up and pacing about, cat-like along the top of the giant letter 'A' in WAYNE. "Well, since we're getting so chummy, let's go over the past for old time's sake. Let's see…There was Robin, all smart and disciplined and obsessive, who basically kicked your ass and destroyed your old headquarters despite holding his friends for ransom and coming this close." X indicated about a centimeter. "From actually killing bird-boy. Yeah, I know all about it. You're not the only one who does research on the enemy, thanks."

"No, no, by all means go on, X. It's fascinating to hear how a young man of such…remarkable upbringing blossomed into the sleuth you claim to be now. Please, entertain me."

X could feel the tremor in his right hand like a rumbling quake and clenched it shut, fighting a cocktail of emotions as they boiled up in the proverbial shot-glass of his head. For a moment Red X felt as if he'd downed a couple of said shot-glasses as his brain spun with paranoia, confusion, anger, frustration, fear and a mess of other sub-route sentiments. He crouched down again at the edge of the giant letter and began tapping his finger in an anxious/paranoid kind of fashion.

What did that mean? He speculated a moment on the possible innuendos in those words. So he'd found his name. Big deal. One of the many names he claimed, one of billions of aliases… just so happened that this one happened to be the really thing.

Lucky guess?

A small part of him laughed and choked on an oversized chunk of 'not-on-your-life' and he dropped all fantasies of that and continued on his original tangent, ticking off mental fingers as he did.

"Don't interrupt teacher while he's talking," he leered. "Ahem…For pupil number two I recall a dirty little girl with platinum blonde hair, a drifter attitude and out of control earthy telekinetics. I guess you learned from your mistake with Robin and decided blackmail wouldn't work so you went all father-figure on her and turned her traitor. Real slick, slimy even you clever son of a bitch."

A small buzz of static, but no reply to that one. X went on.

"You may think you're in control here, Slade but I have news for you," Red X hissed into the communicator. "I don't care if you know who my grandma's second cousin is. I'm not doing shit for you!"

There came, yet again, that chuckle and suddenly the image screen flickered to life and Slade's creepy Halloween hue mask materialized in the tiny monitor. "I thought you'd play that way, Bannon. But I also know you hate playing the hero…or the villain."

Wouldn't want to take the job from you; you're doing so well, X thought scathingly.

Slade, oblivious to the burglar's thoughts, continued. "I'd like to test your morals, X. So I'll be brief."

The criminal gestured to something behind him and the camera panned left and refocused on a blurry figure outlined in a hazy green light. The moment it returned to normal an unfamiliar teenage face appeared in the center of the screen. Dark skinned, and good-looking with glossy-black hair that looked damp through the communicator. He seemed to be unconscious, but then he stirred slightly and colorless black eyes fluttering open before the camera zoomed out.

Slade's upper body filled the screen again and he held up five fingers.

"Five hours, X. Decide how you wish to play this round, I don't care, frankly. If you don't find this young man in five hours, I will use him to decimate this city."

X blinked, arching a brow so the featureless eyes of his mask visually screamed 'neh?' "Erm…hate to be a spoil-sport and all…but I don't play hero. You said so yourself. Besides," X pointed to the left corner of the screen, indicating Slade's off-camera hostage. "How's pretty-boy gonna help you decimate anything but the cover of 'Teen Talk' magazine?"

Slade folded his arms behind his back, military style and narrowed his nasty black eyes at the screen. "He's quite remarkable and if… utilized correctly, even deadly. But that's not half as interesting as his value to the peace of this metropolis and all coastal cities. Wars are fought over a single life, Bannon. Remember that."

He hung up.

X glared out across the glittering winter wonderland, all bedecked with the promise of Christmas morning with the sunrise. He had to figure out which life meant more to him in five hours. His own or that of a stranger. At first the answer came in the form of a resounding 'DU-UH!' but the longer he contemplated it, the longer he kept thinking, the less and less sure he became. Drumming a finger against the cool yellow casing of the communicator, he gnawed his lip.

That guy…the one with black hair and eyes: he'd been wearing a wetsuit or something streamlined for water. He'd looked awful wet and Slade seemed to put more spin on his social standing than his powers. So that made him…the son of someone important? Maybe, file that away for later. Wars are fought over a single life? War? So the son of a foreign ambassador or royalty? Perhaps, shuffle that back into the mental storage cabinet to review. Now, Slade mentioned coastal like Jump. So coastal…what country would focus their assault on only coastal metropolis?

X suddenly marveled at the irony of the situation: His sneaky, thieving mind, the one that couldn't walk into a mall outlet without instantaneously casing the place and seeking all the angles, looking for all the pros and cons, angles and variables of a kidnapping. Law stuff. Justice stuff. Hero stuff. If not for the face mask he would have rumpled his hair in frustration.

Okay, back to it…who attacks cities like Jump? Who would have the military advantage from the ocean when America is the most powerful force on land, air and sea?

Sea…

Sea?

Sea!

HOLY SHIT! THE SEA!

X nearly tipped off the side of the WAYNE building, shock riveting the burglar's limbs into rigid position. Duh! Since the creation of the Justice League the most common source of national tension hadn't taken place between the nations of different continents or even interplanetary dispute. Battles came and went but a new fear of a different sort had breached its ugly head from the dark places of the sea. Wars between the landmasses. Ha! Did the heroes of the world ever wish! If only it could stay that simple.

The tensions now…rose from the waters and the reclusive, suspicious populace that dwelled beneath the waves.

"He's going to piss of Triton…" X laughed in disbelief. "He's gonna start a coastal war between Atlantis and Jump City. That's all it's gonna take. Those water war-mongers are just looking for a reason, dammit. One Atlantian death means hundreds of citizen casualty."

The thief lifted his head toward the horizon, staring at the faintest blush of light daring to paint itself through the atmosphere. He massaged his forehead, a headache welling up behind his eyes and his thoughts retreated back to a time when life remained as simple as stealing from people and complex as the next security system. Frankly life went much more smoothly for him when assholes didn't know his name and didn't expect him to choose between shining heroism and hard-core crime.

"I'm not a hero…" he hissed, clenching his fingers tightly around the Titan communicator. "And I'm not another Slade. I don't do crime-fighting and I don't do valiant." X paused, mulling over his options. After a moment, he made his choice and began to dial something on the communicator.

"But I know someone who will."

-t-h-i-e-f-

Author's Note: Okay, small note here. I had Slade use a small electronic HIVE device to hypnotize Aqualad even though Brother Blood actually doesn't use electronics he just glares at you, does the weird glowing thing and you're a zombie. I improvised. Anyone have suggestions or critiques please leave them in the review box.