T Team 2

Note: I don't own ANYTHING that the people who wrote Teen Titans do.

Note no.2: I'm not going to do any more disclaimers on this story so this is it. This disclaimer applies throughout the entire story.

The town street buzzed lazily as the last car on the street made its way to the intersection. The street was deserted except for a lone figure walking along with a backpack on his shoulder. He was a 14-yearold boy on his way home from school. He had grown out brown hair, a normal face, green eyes, and a slightly muscular form. He wore a white undershirt, a long, green jacket, and long, dark green pants. His sneakers made their usual 'clunk, clunk' noise as he walked.

The boy stopped in his tracks as he saw a strange sigh on the corner. It was a short, bald man struggling with a long, black, metal box. The strangest part was that the man wore a Japanese kimono and wooden slippers. His shoes made an awkward 'clank, clank' as he struggled with a load that was too long for him to carry without the ends banging on the asphalt ground.

To make the situation worse, three more people arrived on the scene. The old man thought that they would help him, but in reality they only intended to salt the wound.

"Ah, hello young sirs. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me with this package?"

"Hey gramps! What's in the box?" asked one of the teens with black eyes.

"Yea! And what would be in it for us if we helped yas at all?" said another of the crowd. This one had untidy facial hair sprouting from his chin.

"Only my gratitude, sirs. You see, I have nothing to give as a reward. However…"

"Nothing to reward us with, huh? Well how's about we take you, box?!" this time a tall one with a long scar on his cheek had delivered the rude comment.

The boy could clearly see that the man was in trouble, and he rushed to his side.

"Leave him alone!" he cried out defiantly.

"And just what are you going' ta do if we don't?" jeered that tall one

To answer that question, the boy took off his backpack and reached into it. He brought the bag up towards the tall one's face.

"I'll have to do this."

And with that, the boy whipped out his bare fist and struck that tall one in the nose. The one with the chin hair then stepped forward to aid his fallen comrade. He opened up a switchblade and charged the boy. The boy dodged nimbly aside and tossed his attacker as he sped past. The third one took a few swings at the boy. He dodged them as he moved his head from side to side. He then countered with a hit to his stomach. All three of them lay on the ground, gazing in fear at the boy.

"Now get out before I call the cops."

With that, the small gang fled the scene, leaving the old man with the boy.

"You are truly honorable sir. Thank you for helping me. Here, take this as a token of my gratitude." said the old man. He held out his box to the boy.

"No. Keep it. I don't want it. It is your box after all." replied the boy.

"I insist. I have been waiting for someone such as yourself to appear. I have been seeking an honorable sir for quite some time now. And I have pledged my life to give this to that man should he ever appear."

The old man again held out the box. The bow started to motion the man to back away, but noticed the pleading look in the man's eyes. He reluctantly took the package from him.

"Use it well, my young friend."

The man gave a deep bow, then walked off. Not knowing exactly what to do now, the boy examined the contents of the case. He pulled off the top to reveal a long katana. He lifted it with both hands and gazed down on it. As if by magic, the katana shortened in length so that the boy could easily carry it. He turned to thank the man, but found that he had disappeared along with the empty box. This strange situation confused that boy. He needed to rest. Once again, he set off down that road, carrying the katana hidden under his backpack…

He arrived home a short time later. He walked in the front door, flipped on the light switch, then headed off to his room. He flipped on another light switch illuminating his dark room. There was a bed in one corner, a computer in another and a rug depicting a fisherman on the floor. His walls were decorated with photos for his family and friends. He walked to the center of the room and took the sword off his back after shedding the heavy backpack. He held the weapon reverently in both his hands. It seemed to emanate a strange power unknown to him. Feeling curious, he drew the sword.

The boy was instantly engulfed in white light. Silver armor began to take form on his body. The knee pads, elbow pads, shoulder pads, chest plate, gloves, and metal material all in-between grew out of nowhere. A thin black strip of a mask formed over his eyes. A sword belt appeared on his back with the swords sheath attached to it. His hair grew down slightly past his knees, and turned chalk white. The boy heard a whistling sound and found a shining Japanese was helmet swirling in the air next to him. He took it and placed it on his head gingerly. The transformation was complete and the blinding white light around him changed to a faint glow. He stared in the mirror at his new warrior form, not knowing what had happened.