Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans. I do get tired of saying this, and I'm sure you get tired of reading it… but, alas, 'tis a necessary evil; I don't want to get my ass sued off.
Gunsmoke and Black Roses—Chapter Twenty-Three
Smoke paced agitatedly in his room and glanced warily at the small digital clock on his workbench.
Five minutes…
That was all he had. Five minutes, to make a decision that could've taken weeks to make.
If he contacted this… this guy… then he could finally have what he'd yearned for so long: A chance to take down Myntull, thus making sure he could never hurt anyone again.
But… was it worth keeping secrets like this? What if his friends found out? What would they say? … What… what would Blackfire say…?
He plopped down on his couch, took one look at the clock again and groaned, placing his head in his hands. This wasn't going to be easy… at all.
When the time came, two hours from the time he'd heard the knock at his door… he forced himself to make a split-second decision. One he hoped he wouldn't regret.
He picked up the small radio and switched it on again. "… Anybody there?"
There was a good thirty seconds or so of dead silence.
"… Ready to accept my offer, Smoke?"
"… Yeah. You tell me where Myntull is and how I can kill 'im…" Smoke's gaze became cold and cutting. "… And I'll do what you want."
"… Good."
Out of nowhere, a small light flashed on the radio and the world suddenly seemed to be a swirl of colors and shapes before Smoke's sight. There was a bright flash, and Smoke covered his eyes.
When the brightness died down, Smoke opened his eyes and gasped.
He wasn't in Titan's Tower anymore…
He was on a long metal bridge in what looked like the inside of some dark factory. All around him, massive cogs and gears turned in slow, steady circles and thick, rusty pipes jutted out from grungy black walls, spewing off thick clouds of hot steam.
Gradually, Smoke took a few steps forward. The sound of the metal bridge groaning under his weight wasn't comforting… and looking below, he saw nothing but inky blackness…
Eventually, he came to the end of the bridge and entered a metal doorway with a jagged, orange-and-black 'S' logo emblazoned on it in faded, chipped paint. It slid smoothly and noiselessly open, leading him into a small room.
There was nothing in here except a window overlooking the black nothingness below and gigantic machinery, another doorway leading out, and… a locker. An orange locker on the far wall…
The communicator crackled and fuzzed back to life for a brief moment. "Have a look, Smoke. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised…" Then, it went silent again.
Cautiously, Smoke strode over and opened up the door on the locker. He stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed, gasping loudly.
A set of clothes…
Getting the idea, Smoke looked around and sighed. "Well… If this guy's gonna help me out… I guess I gotta do what he wants, like it or not."
A few minutes later, Smoke had changed into the clothes inside the locker and was viewing himself in a mirror on the locker's interior.
The jet-black shirt was made out of a shiny, smooth latex-material and produced a bright sheen when the light hit it, despite its dark black color. On the front area, the chest, a pair of ammo-belts were strapped onto him in such a way that they formed an 'X' shape. The first was filled with rifle bullets, while the second's slots held shotgun shells.
The arms of the shirt had black-leather bracelets around his wrists with silvery studs. A pair of golden chains wrapped around either arm came up to his shoulders and attached to a pair of armored shoulder-pads shaped like golden skulls with red, ruby eyes and silvery fang teeth with tusks.
His hands were clad in green gloves, each with a set of brass knuckles on the fingers. The fingers of the gloves sported long, steel nails that came out over his fingers like claws.
The pants were made out of the same shining, black-as-night latex-like stuff as the shirt and had a pair of black-leather bands around his knees, each with a single, golden spike on the front. The belt on the pants was gray, and held numerous pockets and satchels.
His feet displayed a pair of green combat boots, with steel toes and red laces. A chain was wrapped around the heel of each and they both had a set of cowboy-style spurs on the heel, with small razor-disks.
On the upper part of the shirt, on either side of his neck, were long strips of golden metal atop his shoulders. Long, cruelly jagged, silver spikes rose op from them, giving him a spiny appearance.
He now wore a pair of black sunshades and a red bandanna with a spiky gray-rubber choker around his neck, and instead of his old camouflage backpack, he now wore one of an orange material. He'd transferred all of his old pack's contents into this new pack, and had also packed his other suit of clothes down into it as well.
… Although Smoke was not at all comfortable with the situation, he had to admit… this new suit was pretty badass. He smirked as he looked into the mirror. "Heh… I hope my host realizes I'm gonna be keepin' these…"
Smoke jumped slightly as the door opposite the one he'd come in from suddenly slid open unbidden. He stepped through hesitantly and it closed back again behind him.
He was now in a large chamber with grating-covered large air vents on the ceiling and black walls with a silvery floor.
His radio came back on, and the sinister voice filled him in. "Now, you'll get a chance to break in your new uniform. This little room is a test of reflexes and skill… if you're going to be working with me; you've got to be the best. Get through this, and I'll make sure you bring back Myntull's brain on a silver platter."
That was all Smoke needed to hear. "A test, huh? … Okay then. Do your worst."
For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen at all. Just a dark silence that filled the room was all there was. But then, out of nowhere, the metal gratings on the big air vents were knocked down out of their hinges and they clanged against the floor with a metallic thump.
A moment later, bizarre creatures began leaping down from the air vents in droves. They seemed to be humanoid, but wearing jet-black full-body-suits with orange circles on the face, framing pairs of pure-white eyes. Their black suits were covered by plates of silvery armor and they each carried a strange handgun of some sort.
Smoke, of course, didn't realize it but these were Slade's robotic commandos.
"What in the name of…?"
Smoke didn't have time to finish his sentence. The bots fired off a salvo of spiral-shaped red laser beams.
Smoke ducked under this attack and rolled on the ground behind a large turning gear for cover. He reached down and pulled a revolver out of his holster. Peeking around the edge of the huge gear, he took quick aim and started fanning the hammer.
(A/N: For anybody that's not quite sure what I mean by 'fanning the hammer', it's just a term for when one holds down the trigger on the revolver and starts quickly hitting the hammer on the back of the revolver, resulting in extremely rapid fire.)
A quick six-bullet combo put down one of the creatures and blew off a chunk of its right shoulder, exposing glowing and sparking circuitry.
"So… these guys are mechanical!" Smoke realized aloud.
Reloading quickly, he holstered his revolver and reached for his chainsaw. He yanked the cranking cord with gusto, listening to the saw rev up and sputter to life. With a loud yell, he dashed around from behind the gear and into the fray.
He leapt over three laser beams and came down with a vertical swing, sawing a sladebot in half in a shower of sparks. He whipped the saw around horizontally and decapitated four more with one broad swing.
A bot made a lunge for him, but was foiled when Smoke sliced it's arms off and stabbed it through the chest before kicking it off the whirring chainsaw blade with his boot.
A trio attempted to pin him against the wall, but he loosed an angry scream and spun around in a fast circle, swinging his chainsaw blade with the flat end out. He broadsided the robots and sent them flying into a gear, where they were caught up in the mechanisms and ground up into a heap of smoldering garbage.
The bots, becoming increasingly wary of Smoke, backed away while aiming their pistols threateningly.
Smoke drew his shotgun in the hand opposite his chainsaw and brandished it, cocking it with a metallic click. "Come on! Who wants some more of me?" And with that, he fired off a shot and blew the head off one of the robot's shoulders, provoking the rest into frenzy.
They charged at an alarming speed, firing off their laser pistols the whole time. Smoke ducked and rolled and sidestepped every shot and continued squeezing off shotgun shells like there was no tomorrow.
The robots exploded into debris, rent to shreds by needle-fire from the gunner's dart-filled shotgun shells. With each thunderous gunshot, two or three bots froze and sunk despairingly to the ground before bursting into flame… some just exploded outright, nothing at all left of them. However…
For every bot he destroyed, five or six more seemed to come from the air vents in the ceiling… numbers-wise, things were not looking up for Smoke.
That's when it hit him. If he could cut off their entryway, they'd be beaten.
He took out several more with a combination of vicious chainsaw-swings and point-blank shotgun blasts. Then, drawing his sniper rifle, he took aim at an air vent. Aiming for dead center, he fired off an explosive slug… it shot through the air and into the vent… followed a moment later by a massive explosion that shook the room.
For a moment, decimated robot-parts rained down from the vent, and then it just sort've collapsed into itself; it filled up with rubble and cut off the sladebots' entryway. Smoke levered another slug into his rifle and repeated the process with the other air vents, blocking off all of the bots' entrance.
Victorious, Smoke reloaded his rifle and sat down on a large chunk of cement, wondering where he was supposed to go.
His question was answered for him when a large door on the other end of the room seemed to appear out of the shadows and open itself up.
Becoming tired, Smoke staggered through the doorway; it slammed closed behind him.
He was now standing in pitch-blackness. He literally could not see his own hand just a hair's length from his eyes… which was saying something, considering his genetically enhanced eyesight. Such darkness couldn't be natural…
He yelped, and fell to the ground on his butt when he was suddenly dazzled by a bright blast of light. Not normal light, though… it was reddish orange… with just a bit of yellow and gold tint added in. It almost seemed like… fire.
It shone down in a beam from a massive spotlight on the ceiling and illuminated the startled gunman, whose eyes were just now beginning to readjust.
Smoke could've sworn that somewhere up in the darkness before him, he saw a man. A silhouette of a man… garbed in a deathly black suit with shining silver armor plating covering it. He stepped forward… and soon, Smoke could make out a single, piercing eye in the darkness, surrounded by an orange half-mask; the rest of his face was pure black.
"I must admit. I'm very impressed, Smoke."
"… You…! That voice!"
"That's right. I'm the one who's going to guarantee that you get your chance to take down Myntull."
Smoke stared up at the rather alarming looking figure above him, standing on a platform in the dark between clanking machinery and eerie glowing.
"… Why? Why are you helping me?"
The man, whom we know to be Slade, narrowed his one, visible eye. "Just as I said. We have a common enemy. And if you're willing to do a few things for me… then we can kill him. But…"
Slade stared at Smoke in such a way that it seemed to go right through him, and see right down to his very soul… 'If I really have a soul…' Smoke thought. He shivered under the cutting glare.
"… To work with me, things are going to have to change."
"Change how?" Smoke asked sharply.
"You must forget all your laughable notions of friendship or justice. You must learn to be… ruthless. Calculating. Cunning. Deadly. And above all… supremely stoic."
Smoke clenched his teeth nervously. He didn't like those adjectives at all… well, the ones he knew; he had not the slightest clue what 'stoic' meant, but… it sounded bad.
"Why do you want me to do all this?" Smoke demanded softly.
"Because when you work for me, you are going to do things you once loathed. Stealing, breaking laws, fighting… perhaps even killing. But with every job you do, you get used to it. And who knows…? You may even…" His eye flashed venomously. "… like it."
Smoke backed up with a gasp. He was REALLY beginning to regret coming here.
"I can see you're having doubts." Slade mused. "Think of it this way, Smoke… it is the lesser of two evils: Me and Myntull. Work for me… just temporarily, you understand… and I can deliver him into your hands. However, if he is left to run wild… I fear for the city."
Something agonizing was going on in Smoke's mind right then. This was the chance of a lifetime, a golden opportunity, an offer he couldn't refuse!
But…
"My… my friends…" Smoke whispered hoarsely.
"Your friends will never have to know." Slade hissed in an eerily silky voice. "They will know nothing of the work you do for me."
Then, with an astounding leap, the man jumped off of the platform and high into the dark air, vanishing completely.
A moment later, however, he came down with a vicious stomp right in front of a startled Smoke. He held out his armored hand.
"Join me Smoke… working together, we can achieve our goals. You always wanted to be an equal. Not just someone's weapon, not just a tool… but an equal. I am giving you that chance. So… do we have an accord?"
Smoke stared blankly, face expressionless and devoid of emotion.
Then, with a single, fast, fluid movement… he took this man, whom he didn't even realize was Slade, by the hand. He shook his fist with a powerful, determined grip.
"Consider it accorded... Boss."
