AN: I want to thank all the people who have reviewed this insanity and deemed it worthy of praise. You all need prozac as much as I do. Just Kidding! Well kids--here's chapter three. It's short, but it's good.

Disclaimer: If I were to be sued over anything, it would have to be this chapter. However, to cover my ass, I will say that I do not own the Teen Titans, and never will. There.

Robin's Boogie Nights

By: Flaming Homer

Chapter Three: Slade--A Moment In Time

Meanwhile, from a darkened corner of the room, Slade Wilson, ---the Titans most formidable foe--- was hunkered behind a large pillar. He watched the stage door where Robin had entered like a hawk, and waited for Robin to reemerge. He had stalked the Boy Wonder to this location, and eagerly awaited the opportunity to strike down the leader of the Titans when he least expected it.

Typically anti-social by nature, (except for that mixer at Princeton during his freshman year), Slade would never have been seen gracing an establishment such as Masquerade. Normally the hypnotic pulse of techno music, the feted stench of pheromones, and no visible exit, would have ignited a rage in him that would have rivaled the fires of hell. But tonight was different. Tired of being foiled, time after time by Robin and his body stocking clad band of misfits, Slade decided on a new approach. Instead of luring children to a darkened location, with no adult supervision, he was going to theirs. To vanquish his enemy, he had to strike while the iron was hot---when the Titan's least expected an attack.

Consumed by the thoughts of his impending victory, Slade was oblivious to the goings on in the club: The guttural retching of the frat boy a mere five feet from him, the couple on the dance floor in front of him bumping and grinding like hyena's on the discovery channel, and the severe beating of a young man that looked a bit like Moby were but mere background noise to him. Our armor ensconced child-abuser, was mentally stroking himself with a villainous soliloquy:

Yes Robin. Have your fun, for it will be over in a moment. For tonight your breast shall soon run red with blood, much like the breast of that shitty-ass bird you're named after.

Aroused by the sound of his own voice, Slade began to laugh maniacally. His wicked chortle filled his ears and drowned out the delicate footfalls of eight-inch platform shoes. It blinded him from seeing the owner of said shoes, sashay over and drape themselves on the very column he was hunkered behind.

It was only the melodious voice of his mystery guest that brought him back to reality.

" Excuse me."

"Huh?" Looking up, Slade now saw a waifishly thin young blonde male, dressed in a black midi with impossibly tight pink leather pants, and a large 'boy toy' belt hanging limply from his non-existent hips, standing next to him.

"Yes. What do you want?" Slade demanded of the young man, whose disturbing presence snapped him from his fantasy of revenge.

"Hi there. I've been watching you all evening." The man points to his chest and says," My name is Erik, with a "K" what's yours?"

" None of your business."

" I see you're not with anyone tonight."

" Slade works alone!"

" Slade. How industrial sounding. Are you German?"

" Look boy I am trying to work here! Will you kindly leave me alone!"

" Oh a man of mystery…I love that. Just tell me one thing Slade."

" If I do will you leave?"

" Sure."

" Well out with it! You are wasting Slade's time"

" Are you dominant or submissive?"

" I am always on top. Slade dominates all"

" Fabulous! Just promise me you'll be gentle, I'm delicate"

Eric rested his head on the gold plate mail covering Slade's bicep, stroking the bulging forearm up and down. Slade suddenly became visibly uncomfortable, as he realized just what the boy's intentions were.

" Wait a minute, I think you have got the wrong idea about Slade."

" You don't have to say a word." Eric delicately places his finger on the mouth of the mask that is now concealing the vehemently pursed lips of our villain. "I will be waiting for you."

The elegant vocabulary that normally graced Slade's lips was now replaced with uncomfortable stammering. "Wa—wait boy! You misunderstand Slade."

But alas Slade's proclamation was just out of earshot of the amorous Eric, who was now slowly walking away, licking his lips at our master villain.