Thieves and Thugs

I'd like to ask you something honestly, thief to thief. – Red X

t-h-i-e-f-

Ring!

The gentle, warbling cry of an unanswered telephone drifted through the empty pent-house apartment. The noise, wandering across undisturbed, black jade figurines of black cats set meticulously about a stylishly furnished glass-wall view of the city. Beyond the crystal panes the gritty black skyscrapers and almost cathedral-like structures of a stone monument to the power and prestige of mankind. The glitter of glass, and brick spliced together in a broken horizon of stabbing stone and towers, reaching concrete arms to the ever distant sky.

Below, this lovely and exotic home laid the busy city streets, a buzz with Christmas traffic through the digital read out in the stainless steel kitchen said 3:00 AM, a God forsaken hour to anyone of typical nighttime habits and certainly an irritation to who ever lived in this impressive living area. Surely. The minutes ticked by even as the bright green numbers lit up the vacant cooking area with a faint mossy cast, glittering off a myriad of silver saucers and fancy dishes all laid out in neat rows across the kitchen tile.

Ring!

At the second ring, a small black orb of fur so dark as to be faintly bluish in color unfurled from the arm of the soft, velveteen sofa. Long, triangular ears pricked forward. The ring sounded yet again and the ears twitched back in annoyance. A long, sleek tail lashed grumpily at the errant noise disturbing the feline's relaxation, ignoring several of its fellows, all of whom adhered to nature's nocturnal call and chased each other through the clean, empty halls.

The black cat, having had enough of this, stretched it's forelegs and yawned, baring neat ivory fangs and going long and rigid for a moment. Then, relaxing, the cat bounded down from the chair and padded silently down the nearest hallway. On its way, the animal past several intricately etched mosaics of Egyptian felines receiving worship on a throne, cats slinking and intertwining through the woodwork and every other picture hung and painted across the darkly tinted walls.

The cat reached the end of the hall and wormed through the crack in the bedroom door, gliding into an elaborate room of ebony selves, stacked with rare and priceless gems, jewels, artifacts and sentimental treasures. Our striking four-pawed protagonist trotted, tail flagging, across the smooth cherry-wood flooring and paused at the foot of an elegant, satin and silk embroidered mattress. Heavy, tassel sewn cover elegant and expensive to the trained eye and a source of endless amusement for tassel-fixated felines. There, standing at the end of the bed, the cat mewed demandingly and leapt up and pouncing on the bare feet of the ebon-haired young woman lying in the bed.

"Ow! Shi-shi!" cried the slender, female victim.

She frowned, full red lips pulling in an unhappy expression as her brilliant green eyes softened at the sight of her favorite feline. Her high, well sculpted cheekbones, developed twin dimples and her pale complexion glowed in the dim lamp-light. Smiling she reached out a slim arm, inviting the handsome animal to enjoy her touch. The ever conceited cat sniffed meticulously at her fingers at first, pretending he didn't care either way. However, his owner knew what he liked and gently stroked the animal behind the ears, long nails petting away the lovely creature's former pride.

The cat purred happily and arched its back against her arm, slinking about her waist and kneading the bed sheets with needle-like claws. Several ruby pendants, all emblazoned with the symbol for an ancient cat goddess, jangled against one another, shifting across her bedspread even as she picked her pet off her comforter and draped him over her slim shoulders.

"Now," she purred, "what's all the commotion then? Important call?"

The girl delicately reached over her pillows and silken poufs, plucking her smooth black phone from its cradle, pressing a button and replacing it quickly. The light bleeped on over the label: speaker phone and she sighed in ecstasy, rolling across her bed of coins, silk and feline treasures. Ahh…Merry Christmas to me, she thought.

"Hello? Late night caller must be important. Talk to me, sweetie."

"Hey Cat," chuckled a low and humorous male voice, husky and distorted through the speaker. The woman's lips broke into a wide, warming smile at the familiar sarcastic tones. Hmm…another of my favorites. Merry Christmas indeed.

"My neko-chan," she laughed musically, knowing the derogatory nickname would irk him. "I remember a skinny, little brat with a penchant for stealing from those who should not be stolen from. Now is that just my womanly intuition or do I sense that you've 'earned' a bit more than your payroll is due?"

"My payroll has nothing to do with it…" She could fell his quirky grin. "Well…maybe a little. You read about the recent crime wave in the coast?"

"Hmmm," she purred, appreciatively. Pawing a couple coins aside and sprawling comfortably on her belly and staring through the parted curtains out upon the city. The moon shone full through the dingy clouds of smog, shining bright in her emerald orbs. "I heard there was a new face on the fast track, but I never imagined you'd be one of them. My little neko-chan grew up while I wasn't looking."

A pause and an invisible tension drifted over the line.

She could feel his uncertainty like heavy breath against her ears, alerting her to his emotional status and sending up a frantic red flag. She sat up, concerned for her former charge. Despite all his strange and often infuriating habits and traits during her time with him, only a couple years back, she still felt a sisterly attachment to the young man on her line, mutual or not. She knew him to possess a rare thieving mind she admired in one so young and a sly cunning to match her own.

She'd taken a shine to him

Curiosity rose inside her and she placed Shi-Shi on the floor; something had shaken her fiercest kitten and she demanded to know what.

"I…need a favor…" he admitted. He stopped short, inviting her to open the topic, obviously looking to discuss something, but giving her the option of hanging up immediately. 'The mission, should you choose to accept…' The dark-haired woman could hear his breathing through the phone; knowing from the rhythm of his breath that he was distressed maybe even hurt.

"Ban-chan," she teased, letting the innocent pet-name fall from her lips like a gentle mantra. "Tell me what's happened."

A breathe. "I can't tell you the details or how I know, but I need you advice. For old times sake?"

She smiled. "Alight. What'cha need t' know?" she inquired playfully, fondling her precious feline possessions. She liked nothing more than to play these cat and mouse games, chasing her protégé's real meaning, true intentions and situation through a mere telephone. Asking advice didn't strike her as a common Ban-chan practice. If he actually needed to call her up after all these years just to ask advice…

The green-eyed thief smirked into her pillows. "I think you're calling to cash in on a solid 'you owe me'. Am I wrong?"

"No," he confessed, unabashed. He sounded confident and laid-back as he always did, optimistic and weird yet…tired somehow. "I guess I will cash in, but I'd like to ask you something honestly, thief to thief."

"I won't even comment upon the irony in that sentence," she mused, earning a low 'tch' from her unseen companion and she could feel him smiling his crooked grin.

"Cat…" he said suddenly, gaining her attention. "I'm…getting offered a job…by a guy I can't refuse."

"Can't refuse?" she echoed. "You? That's something new."

"Oh no. Not to say I didn't try. He just beat the living daylights out of me and my refusal," he said matter-factly.

She frowned at this, concerned but not overly. She knew her former charge could more than handle himself but she didn't enjoy hearing her boy was getting physically battered over a job. She knew her pupil, intelligent as he was, would judge for himself whether or not the consequences of his activities were worth the price.

"You know I don't approve, However, you're a big boy in a big world so I'll let you work," she drawled, knowing what he wanted to hear and telling him just that. Babying and fretting like a hen over her chick would do little. Her indifferent feline mentalities didn't allow for it. Her kitten would have to grow into a tom-cat quickly, no matter how many rabid strays he encountered.

She reached back and plucked a lone photograph from the pin-ups tacked into the expensive woodwork of her headboard and examined the figures in the picture.

She of course, was standing in what looked like a high-end tech-lab, blowing a butterfly-kiss and sticking her hip out like a punk rocker with attitude to match. Beside her, dressed in a too big work-out shirt and a mechanic's jumpsuit rolled down about his waist, stood a slender looking kid with wiry arms braced against the hood of a tricked out, state of the art, vehicle – compliments of the family company. His dirty auburn hair so discolored she remembered with all the heavy machinery he worked with he might have still retained car oil in his hair. His huge, cat-like eyes still glinted mischievously from his strong roughish features.

Thumbing the photo she crawled on her elbows back toward the speaker phone. "Listen Ban. You're thief and an independent. I personally can't see you working as a hired underling for anybody. I don't want you getting yourself killed but I don't think you'd do well under supervision." She chuckled. "You're like a toddler after the candy… 'cept your IQ's a bit higher than that."

He didn't answer because she suspected he had not words to properly illustrate to his situation.

Shi-Shi leapt up on the bed and mewled piteously, eyes riveted upon the phone, purring happily at the sound of his only other favorite living creature, himself aside. Selfish little feline. Took after her pupil in every way imaginable, shame he'd left in such a hurry. Shi-Shi would have loved to accompany him on his illicit road of thievery.

"Hello, Shi-Shi," said the phone, amused.

"Dumb cat," she said playfully, stroking the animal. Her green eyes flickered back to the moon hanging low outside, watching as small, icy flakes began to drift and danced in downward spirals from the clouds above. "So how are you going to beat him? If you agree to work for him, something tells me you'll never get out of the commitment."

An ugly pause and for a moment she imagined he'd already agreed to it, then he found his voice again. "We'll see. I think I've got a plan but I'll need you to talk to someone anonymously. I can beat him at his game, but right now I'm short handed and he's holding a trump card I can't get around."

"What's that?"

"Hostage," he replied, sounding downright agitated.

She chuckled. "No I mean the game he's playing."

"Oh…trickery," he replied dismissively. "Wish me luck?"

"Only for you, Red."

"Thanks Selina…This is my last favor."

-t-h-i-e-f-

It grew quiet, hauntingly so for a room occupied by teenagers on Christmas morning. Though the sun had not yet broken the horizon, two of the Teen Titans stood somberly around the main communication screen. The Christmas lights blinked and sparkled invitingly, bright strings of electric joy flashing seductively, but invisibly. Neither of the Titans wanted anything to do with presents as of then.

Aqualad had just contacted them.

"He's been lying to you guys from the start," the aquatic teen informed them without a trace of doubt in his voice. His expression even through the computer screen appeared oddly pale, but sincere. He said his communication was reaching them from one of his many underwater networks of caves and tunnels. The reflection of water waves across the walls and his face seemed legitimate.

"So," Raven murmured, breaking the silence. "He never did run into Slade. It was all a ruse?"

"Sorry, Raven," Aqualad said apologetically, his eyes softening at her disgusted tones. "Bumblebee and I had a run in with a couple HIVE students. Apparently, X busted into the academy last night, stole their latest project and tried to make a run for it. It so happened, that Jinx and a couple seniors bumped into him on the way out and gave him a work over."

The two Titans, upon hearing this, sighed in resignation. Raven, admitting to herself that she'd once again jumped to conclusions and unwittingly aided a creature not worthy of breath, much less her gifts of healing. Robin, however, seemed to take it far harder than either she or their informant Aqualad. After all, while Raven had merely made herself look like a two-year old enticed by candy, Robin took Red X as a far more personal affront and the very idea that his counter-part had used Slade (another little shoulder chip for him) to get him riled up, made the deception more personal.

Robin clenched his fist angrily against the top of the computer console, lips tight with anger. "He just used Slade as a way to get our attention," he hissed, voice strained with barely contained fury. "Heh. He actually had me going to. I was ready to cut a deal with him."

Raven sighed and massaged her forehead. "Well, at least you didn't act on your suspicions. I, on the other hand, feel like an idiot. I went tracked him down in the middle of the night just so I could hand him a free check-up." Her face grew dark whether from black emotion or her own powers affecting the atmosphere about her impossible to tell. "But he'll need more than a checkup next time we meet…"

Aqualad made a face in the screen, obviously apologetic once more, despite having done nothing wrong. "I'm sorry I should have contacted you guys right away, but Bumblebee wanted to check and make sure X had no other ties with the HIVE before we worried you about it. Didn't know you all had such a history with him."

"Yeah," Robin muttered cryptically.

Raven watched their team leader with concern, but knew no words would smooth his ruffled pride as of now. The boy had already turned to his computer and began running the security and Titan Alert protocols that linked the tower to most of the city mainframe. Probably hoping X'll show his ugly face, Raven thought. He'd better watch it. His obsessively paranoid tendencies are showing. Instead of questioning her fearless leader's methods, she turned to Aqualad and nodded her thanks.

"He really had us worried over nothing," she said sincerely. "Thanks for clearing it all up for us, Aqualad."

The handsome Atlantian shrugged modestly. "Bumblebee did most of the work. I just thought it would be good to tell you guys."

"Yeah," Raven said, fighting not to let her unruly emotions get the better of her. "Speaking of Bumblebee, didn't she tell us she had something terribly important to talk to us about? Something about Steel City and the crime rates there. I think she's looking to form her own team or something. You heard anything about it? I figured if she told anyone, she'd tell you."

The boy looked momentarily startled by such a thought, however quickly recovered.

"Not that I know of. But then again she has been acting more up-beat lately. She might have something up her sleeve, but she'll probably spring it on me last minute as usual."

Raven dared to quirk a smile. "Yeah, well. Thanks a lot Aqualad and Merry Christmas."

"Yes. You too," he said, giving her a smile to thaw snow covered ice-cubes. "I'd better get back to work or I'll get a severe reprimand from my superiors. I'll contact you later."

The screen blanked out.

Robin had already sat down and fallen into an unhealthy position, only a couple inches away from the console in front of him. Police files and recent 911 calls marched down a file to the right side of the screen while images from all over the peaceful holiday held city. Raven glided up to watch, face impassive. Robin didn't bother to look up, knowing Raven wouldn't take offense to his silence like the other Titans might. She and he remained wordless for a couple silent morning minutes as snow cascaded outside their darkened window.

"You know…" Raven drawled, trailing off.

Robin looked up from his program to blink at her.

She smiled thinly.

"It would be easier to track X…if you knew what his name was."

Then, while Robin could only gape in shock, she reached over his shoulder and delicately pulled up the computer imagery file she'd made using the residual DNA the burglar's bloody knuckles had left on her fingers. Robin stared speechlessly at the digital strand of genetic identity spinning on the computer screen in front of him before snapping his gaze back on Raven.

"Raven, if I run this through the database…" he said, almost breathless.

However, she'd already left his side and currently wrapped her energy about a parcel beneath the tree. Floating it over to her she settled down on the sofa with it neatly set on her lap. Smirking just slightly she plucked it out of the air and began slowly tugging the bow open.

"Early Christmas present from me you," she said, unwrapping the package and casually reading the little card with the words 'To: Raven From: Robin' scribbled across the front. "Ooh…" She held up a thick, leather bound volume entitled The Alabaster Verse. "I've wanted this book for a while now. Thank you Robin."

Then the two Titans enjoyed the quiet of each other's company and the thoughtfulness of their gifts. Outside snow fell silently and a blush of palest purple crept across the horizon.

-t-h-i-e-f-

Cinnamon…

His room smelled like cinnamon. It always had and the thief wouldn't sleep at night without the familiar scent. He'd tried before and found he could not have a dreamless rest without the feel of well-worn pillows and the fragrance of spice lingering over the room. He remembered spilling the bottle of seasoning while sick one winter, munching on sugar and cinnamon sprinkled toast. He'd dropped the entire container on his bed while laughing at his favorite television show. Nice normal, happy times.

He pressed his face against the time-worn pillowcase and inhaled deeply, almost able to taste the sugared bread and long ago cheerful memories. Cinnamon…

X rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, his entire body going limp in euphoria of finally earning to right to just lie still and not move for a while. The moment felt like paradise. Feeling weightless and temporarily at peace with his existence in this life, the larcenist propped his head on his arm and curled up in the center of his too-large bed, taking comfort in the sensation of rumpled sheets, blankets and pillows all around him.

You know what you have to do, part of him remarked drolly in the back of his mind.

X groaned and ignored the voice, praying for just a couple more minutes, just a little while longer without the stomach heaving task lain before him. He lifted his arm and slowly removed his gloves, staring at the pale, naked skin that he so meticulously hid from the prying eyes of the rational world. The windows, draped in misty black curtains and screened by oriental rice paper, would not expose him and for just a little while he wanted to pretend that he didn't have to save the world.

…well maybe not the world. If it were that big, he could just slough it off on the Justice League then couldn't he?

The burglar pushed himself off the comforter, the dark smoothness of the sheets sensual and real against his fingers. For a lucid moment he wondered if he'd ever been anything but X. Anything but skull mask and the thief in the darkness that so alliterated like a reoccurring dream throughout his world and the rush that defined his existence. Could he remember day when he'd felt like he could live in the daylight and walk the streets of Gotham or Jump without the sensation of exposure?

The thief crossed his apartment studio and slipped into the bathroom, leaving the lights dim and turning the shower on. Steam gushed form the overhead tube and clouds of mist instantly billowed up around the floor and filled the tiny room. Leaning heavily against the lip of his sink, the thief looked up into his mirror, seeing only a blurry glaze of misty glass.

Reaching up to cover his face, the young man spread his artisan fingers across the skeletal features of his mask and gingerly took the concealing head-piece in his hand. Simultaneously pressing corresponding pressure points beneath the rim of the mask, several electronic clasps clicked apart, unlocking his hidden identity.

Carefully, almost reverently after all this time of hiding, X removed the mask and placed it on the bathroom counter. The feeling of hot, moist air on his cheeks and forehead, moved him to run a hand through his tangle of unruly hair, raking it from his face and reaching down to unclasp his belt and let it slide to the floor as he stripped the upper half of his disguise from his upper body, revealing a disciplined and well toned body of one who pushes himself to his limits often.

The thief, having not shower in days and smelling really funky as of a couple days ago, quickly tossed off his clothing and stepped under the hot downpour of steam, letting the heat wash down his shoulders, hot at first before his skin adjusted to the extra heat. Feeling a thousand times better than before, Red X - or rather, his alter ego, Bannon – scrubbed weeks of grim off his body, washing and rising several times before choosing to simply sit in the bottom of the shower and let the gentle droplets of water wash down his soap-scented body. (Hey! Cucumber melon!)

Somehow, the water running in rivets down the contours of his body seemed to heal whatever paralysis held him captive. If water could make weak men strong, then he dared to say he could just about take on Slade if the masked megalomaniac popped through the door for a brawl.

Wait…no. He would take on Slade…once properly dressed. No one feels invincible while clothing deprived.

"If only Selina could see me now," he drawled to himself, twisting the water off and feeling around outside the shower door for a dry towel. "Miss Kyle would probably have a fit, if she knew how deep a hole I've dug myself into."

Managing to snag a towel, the young thief dried himself quickly, and stalked about his apartment in search of boxers. Upon finding a pair he considered his options, the first and more appealing choice consisted of shirking his inevitable doomsday mission and the only possible salvation of this miserable city, but getting a heck of a lot more me-time out of it. The second option required him to repair his suit, put it back on and skip merrily out the door to find Slade and play the jolly hero.

Frankly he'd love to go with door number one, but it had been firmly bolted shut by his own principles and left him with all the unpleasantness of door number two.

Sighing, the larcenist threw a too-big button-up across his damp shoulders and grabbed up his damaged suit. He crossed the room, jumping his oh-so-inviting sofa and striding into his work-room, the word 'room' getting used very loosely here since the walls consisted of a few random rice-paper screens round a work table and large tool-kit. Scattered about the table-top like crumbs lay stray pieces of machinery and tools, all haloing a dissected zynothium belt that lay exposed on the desk.

He noticed that one of his proto-types had gone missing. Damn Slade! Didn't he know not to take things that weren't his? It had taken him months to find the parts and build a proper zynothium core, but find them he had build several, he had.

No matter, he still had at least one.

He draped the suit across the table top and reached for a couple, slim and precise looking tools made for delicate nano-tech repairs. Swiveling around on his favorite stool, he bent over a damaged area with a large suspended microscope. Sparks almost to minute to see began flying about his fingers and not twenty minutes later, he had repaired all the major damage Slade inflected upon both him and his suit. He figured a quick patch job would just have to do for now. The thief shook out the outfit but didn't immediately put it on.

He still needed a moment to think through his ever less enticing plan to save Jump City. Oh joy.

Suddenly realizing how hungrily his stomach growled the young thief tossed the suit aside. He wandered into the kitchen, raided the fridge, sporked the hell out of a microwave dinner and popped it in said kitchen appliance. While his high-calorie dinner nuked itself edible, he ventured back to his room and made yet another call his cell phone, not trusting Slade to keep his paws off his landline. He'd checked everything for bugs, even scanned for electrical devises and got nil, but that didn't make it any better. Just knowing Slade had accosted his only sanctuary made him edgy and anxious.

The residual sensory images left by Slade's fists remained in his brain like a deeply rooted weed, choking out all his blossoming schemes for pulling off his greatest heist ever: stealing from Slade. The ingrained fear threatened to break him.

X glanced back toward his empty, lonely looking suit, hanging over the sides of the work table like a sad kind of pet. The empty skull mask upon the far corner of the desk seemed to gaze invitingly up at him. He frowned, feeling as accosted as his apartment and went to rescue his dinner – umm, breakfast – from the microwave. He returned to his work table and sat in his stool, peering down at his handiwork while chewing sweet-and-sour pork.

You know what you have to do, Red X.

"Of course I do," he muttered, speaking around a face full of food. He swallowed and tossed the empty bowl away in the bin at the foot of the desk. "Knowing you have to do a shitty job and actually getting up the nerve to go do it are two very different things."

I have to. This is what I must do, as insisted by the strange voice in my head.

X sighed and vouched to just let his thoughts run like background noise in his buzzing brain. The young man stretched several times, bringing his arms up and stretching taunt until every line of muscle was clearly defined all down his abdomen and chest. Bending over, he arched his back into a momentary bow before pulling his legs up and over in a slow, but limber handstand. He stared at the flooring beneath his palms before flipping smoothly back to his feet. He sighed and inhaled deeply, more completely than before and then released the breath.

It's complicated…for me at least.

Red X breathed sharply, his left wrist cutting through the air in deft, slicing motions to be immediately shadowed by his right. A dull shadow flickered and mimicked his movements across the wall, painted oriental artworks bearing witness to his warm ups. Running through a couple fluid hand drills, the boy brought his fists up in a defensive stance and practiced his balance. Planting his right foot, he extended his leg almost vertically and spun around in a deadly pirouette. Then slowly, he brought it around in a slow-motion round-house kick. He did this several times as the encroaching shadows of his room sought to swallow his silhouette.

There is bad…and there is worse. Personally I like to think I'm somewhere in between.

Muscles, warm and loose, the thief grabbed up his belt and body suit and dug around for his tattered old cape. Finding it crumpled beneath a pile of newspaper clippings, he shook it out and examined the stylishly frayed fringes. It did little for combat maneuverability, but it insulated and really completed the whole mystique of his disguise. Feeling somewhat giddy – the anticipation of his new and dangerous heist making him jittery and hyper – the thief Every motion he made, slipping his arms through the sleeves, smoothing his outfit and belting on the zynothium.

Those who steal…and those who steal lives…

Red X pulled the suit over his head, adjusting the familiar weight of the fabric and circuits to align with every key vital point and trigger. As he did, he happened to chance his reflection in the shattered shards of the mirror he'd once hung as a good-luck charm over his workbench. The idea being that all ill-luck toward him would be bounced back like a light of a mirror. Looking at his broken features only made his goal more resolute. He reached for his gloves.

And the line between them is never clear, as is the way with crime these days.

His hands slid up his forearms, carefully pulling his gloves up to the elbow, the fashionably ripped and jagged looking arm guards comfortable and weightless against his skin. Smoothing the cloth with the grace of long practice, X furled and unfurled his hands. He cocked his head, cracking his neck with a quick twist of the head and shook out his hands. X reached for his mask.

It's supposed to be complicated.

He smoothed his hair from his face before slipping the familiar skull face over his real features. Like a safety blanket to a child, his mask gave him a sense of comfort and ability to handle whatever should come.

But tonight is different…

Red X threw open his skylight and glanced momentarily back into his strangely furnish apartment. All the familiar, comfortable décor stared bleakly up at him from the floor, all safe, all sure and solidly real in his home. They seemed like possessions belonging to another person and for a moment, X contemplated to whom they'd belonged before he'd taken them, but no…

This was his apartment and he'd decorate however the hell he liked, stolen paintings or no he'd selected every work, every sofa, cushion and rug. He'd taken every thread he seen fit to steal and in his own crooked logic, that defined him in a way. Red X…the thief. Not a murderer, not the apprentice and never an underling to anyone. (Selina didn't count. He'd been twelve.) He closed the skylight behind him and the crystalline frost about the pane reflected his skeletal expression.

X felt himself grin, a grim and resigned kind of acceptance and as he gazed at his own features in the glass he mused on how something as simple as a shower could prove so cleansing. The window latched shut from the inside and to roof, moments later, showed no trace of the boy who'd crouched there only moments before. The snow danced across the roof tops and in the silence, the first stirring noise of the stirring city could be heard.

In fact, tonight nothing's ever been simpler.

-t-h-i-e-f-

The waters around his waist shifted and undulated around him, lapping at his middle like a dark, freezing animal. He flicked the communicator open. Face expressionless, he brought the devise to eye-level and spoke. "It's done."

"Excellent," a sultry, male voice murmured through the airways. The young man holding the radio didn't seem bothered by the evil in his voice however, merely listening with rapt attention. His body shivered uncontrollably his skin raw and numb due to the freezing air and sub-zero waters around him. "They believed you I'm certain. You have exceptional acting skills young Atlantian."

"Thank you, master," he replied, sounding more like a trooper speaking with an officer than anything else. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"No. I believe that's all I'll require from you," the older voice replied, amused it seemed. "Tell me though. How is my old friend, Blood treating you at the academy?"

"Fine," he replied tonelessly. "Headmaster had me taking a couple endurance tests. He postponed them so I could call the Titans for you. Am I free to return to my class?"

"Yes. Tell Blood you're all his. I've no further need of you."

Aqualad nodded and shook a thick rope of inky hair from his face. "Thank you, master. I'll tell him," he said and closed the communicator. The girl standing on the dry platform above him held out an expectant hand and the boy handed the radio to her. Her soft pink hair looked wet from the spray inside the chamber and her jester-like gown of black and striped stockings dark with water.

She smiled mischievously down at him from the platform and caught his wrist. Beaming at the good-looking teen, she kissed the centre of his palm. "It's for good luck," she whispered secretively, relinquishing her hold on his hand. "I'd like you to be one of us. Don't fail."

Jinx stepped back from the lip of the tank, still smiling and holding the radio to her breast as he dove back underwater and left her behind. He knifed through the chill liquid and into the darker waters of the main tank below. He looked up, to see the entry way he'd come through seal closed, a heavy metal seal sliding over the exit and looked toward the front of the glass confinement.

Aqualad saw Jinx take her place beside the control panel outside. The Headmaster stood just outside, watching and Aqualad nodded to Jinx, signaling 'go'. She looked away and began turning dials and entering codes via the computer console at their finger tips. Instantly the pressure inside the tank began to increase, pressing in against Aqualad's skin like a heavy blanket, enveloping his whole body. The liquid against lips and tongue grew heavy as he fought to breathe the denser waters.

His youthful features grew tense as he struggled with fatigue to make his body fight the crushing pressures. His ebon hair flattened against his head as his chest contracted and his arms and legs folded tightly against his body. The pressure still grew, slowly crushing the Atlantian with the force. His wearied body, though young and well trained, simply could not withstand the repeated strain of such weight on his frame.

It's crushing me! hethought frantically. I can't stop it! I'm going to fail! I'm not going to make it, it's too much!

In that moment, the control Slade held over him shattered, literally. The devise crumpled like a soda can and the neural synapses, once repress, fired to life and suddenly as his personality returned, Aqualad realized his test would never have an ending grade. His 'class' didn't teach him anything, nor would his fellow 'students' help him though he could see many of them watching through the thick pressure-proof glass before him. He wasn't being tested.

He was being executed.

Gasping in pain, but unable to even draw proper breathe for gasp, the teenager struggled uselessly in the high water density. He shuddered violently, muscles shaking as his control over water held the killing pressures at bay. He couldn't get his arms away from his body, his hands pinned against his shoulders by the water even as he fought to lift a hand. He felt hairline fractures run through his ribs and his back arched in pain before the pressure forced his body into a painful ball. He tried to cry, but he couldn't open his eyes

"Ahh, revenge is so satisfying," Brother Blood remarked, gazing at his captive through the thick glass wall.

The Atlantian's agonized expression filled him with elation as his body slowly broke under the merciless water. The teenager struggled, screaming silently in the watery shroud, as his punishment doled out. The Headmaster tapped a finger against the glass, examining a smear where the cleaning crew had missed some grime.

"Shame it's not that traitor Bumblebee," he said regretfully as Aqualad heaved a visible sob through clenched teeth. "Though, I suppose she'll be crushed when she finds I've taken him." He chuckled to himself. "Jinx! Reduce pressure!"

"Yes, Headmaster," she said, quickly nullifying the pressure. The Atlantian instantly went limp, his body unfurling from his fetal curl of pain. He lost consciousness as his body, suddenly relieved of the terrible pressure, sank to the bottom of the tank, motionless. The water drained from the tank until only a thin puddle of water pooled around his injured body.

"Dying would be too kind." he said, voice sly with cruel anticipation. "Jinx. Take Mirage, Distortion, and Alias and get the Atlantian to tell us everything about what he and the traitor Bumblebee have discovered about my school."

"Yes, Headmaster," Jinx nodded, gesturing to the three said students.

They departed and Brother Blood smiled cruelly at the aquatic teenager. Aqualad, struggled to rise, his eyes fluttering weakly as his head pounded blood through his brain in a heavy rhythm. He felt someone enter the tank from above and another walk through a wall to his left, the air vibrating as they did. A hand touched his back and gently found its way to the back of his neck. Something stung his neck and a strange coolness spread beneath his skin.

"Distortion, Alias, hold his arms and keep him steady. You know what that stuff does to you," she commanded indisputably.

"Sure do," replied a low, male voice as strong hand held the Atlantian's arms on both sides and pulling him off the ground. He wanted to fight, but every muscle in his body ached and he could barely find the strength to keep breathing, much less struggle. He managed to force his body still and stop swaying so badly, but the boy at his left warn him to hold still or they'd just let him fall on his face.

He probably would too.

"You're in for a hellava time," giggled a strange girl voice from his right. She pulled him a bit closer and leaned in to whisper. "It's not so bad. Just try to think about something else."

Aqualad wondered what they were talking about, and what could possibly be worse than the nightmare he'd just endured, when the serum they'd injected finally took hold. He reacted violently to the chemicals and doubled up, puking. When he threw up everything in his belly his stomach contracted and he puked bile instead. Throat burning with the corrosive stomach acids and his entire body trembling from the violent reaction, he almost thanked the HIVE student who thoughtfully held his head and smoothed his hair out of his face when he puked the third time.

"Don't try to fight us," he heard Jinx say from behind him, voice soothing as she stroked his hair back, steadying him. "Headmaster won't have you killed if you cooperate. He might even let you study here so long as you don't try to fight."

He couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't speak anyway. He felt himself slipping away into unconsciousness and gratefully fell into the meaningless darkness, all the time wondering what he'd done to warrant this torture.

-t-h-i-e-f-

Author's Note: Yes, I have way too much fun tormenting Aqualad, but guess what? I finally have some action planned for my next chapter! I promise. Terrible sorry for the delay but... my gosh! I had to think of a plot and I dare say it threw off my random chapter typing skills. Hope you enjoyed this chapter because I had a terrible time trying to come up with it. By the way, I own nothing. Not Teen Titans, not DC comics and not Selina Kyle.

PS: How many of you know who she is? Shame on you if you don't.