Whoa... I haven't updated this in like forever...
Heh.
Slade
"A madman was threatening the city, and I had to stop him. So I became Red X; a ruthless thief who could get closer to the madman than Robin ever could… It was the closest I've ever come to crossing the line." – Robin; X
Between us – Batman and I, I mean to say – Bruce was always the monster. That was his role, the one that he chose to take all those years ago – this big black bogeyman, designed to scare criminals. It works on most; interestingly, there is a high ratio of one-time crooks who never re-offend after being caught by Batman.
Of course, there's always the wackos it didn't work on quite so well. The Joker. Two-Face. Poison Ivy. I could go on forever; but I won't, since I have my own Rogue's Gallery to deal with now. Some of the big Gotham criminologists have theories; theories that Batman himself (and later, myself and Babs, when we were added to the equation) does, in effect, "breed" these more colorful criminals.
A theory with basis, I guess. Half of the time, why does the Joker gas a kindergarten, or why does the Riddler leave riddles marked with hand-drawn bats on them at his crime-scenes? Because they want Batman's attention. Commissioner Gordon always said that Batman was the solution; Detective Bullock, and these criminologists, said that he was part of the problem.
Bruce, Barbara and I.
Batgirl and I were part of the army, but our job wasn't to scare people; we were, I suppose, his back-up. We watched out for him and each other. But we were Batgirl and Robin.
We weren't the monster; so we weren't the target.
As it happens, I've managed to walk away from one monster and straight into another one. The difference is that the new one is called Slade, and he's not out there to scare criminals.
He's one of them.
For the first time, I'm getting the Batman treatment. Slade wants my attention; and he has it. Maybe I, or others like me, such as Batman, have bred Slade; and if that's so, then it's my job to take him down. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize I'm probably playing right into his hands, but at the moment, I'm so overcome by this sudden brilliant idea I have, that notion doesn't take up much space in my forefront consciousness.
All that matters is that I have a dark, determined brainwave, ten square meters of black spandex, and a sewing machine.
Not that I've ever used one before, at least not to make an entire outfit, but…
We all have start somewhere. Stitch by stitch. I know Bruce made his own costume, and Babs made hers.
Alfred made mine. It's about time I got the needle and thread out myself, I think.
I am not a monster. At least, most of me isn't.
Maybe this costume will be home to the part of me that is. If that's the case, then I already have a name for it:
Red X.
"Who knows? I might even become like a father to you."
"I already have a father…" – Slade and Robin; Apprentice Pt II
The uniform had always been everything.
A lot about "Robin" had been governed by the uniform – and this was no exception.
First, there had been the metallic leotards, with Haley's Circus scrawled across them in glimmering showcard font, that had marked him as a member of that large, bright family.
Then there had been the first Robin uniform – pixie boots, shorts, the whole bag. Fairly embarrassing, looking back on it, but nonetheless a vital part of his induction into the Batman's world.
Then, by a combination of ideas from Babs, Alfred and Robin himself, there had been the updated uniform, with long pants, boots, two-toned cape of polymerized titanium. The marking of the latter time with Batman – and, more importantly, the forming of the Teen Titans.
Bruce, father-figure though he may have been, could surely never have expected him to wear shorts for the entirety of his crime-fighting career. Surely there was some kind of law against that…
Regardless, that wasn't the uniform he was pulling on now. Under the dull, apple-shine glare of a single spotlight, the pants weren't green or spandex. They were black and leather. The shirt was black and bronze, not trademark crimson. Metal accents and limb-guards and neck-plate.
Strange – that really didn't look much like an "R" to him. More like an "S", truth be told. It rested over his heart, the way the "R" had done; but it wasn't an "R".
"Red X" was locked up safe in a vault now – but Robin knew he never should have made it, never should have worn it.
Changing his uniform, even if only for a few hours, and for a noble purpose, had been both a mistake and an invitation.
He looked down at his palms – the creases in the leather. If Bruce could see him now—
"A perfect fit," Slade drawled softly from somewhere beyond the light. "And it suits you."
"I bet you think you're pretty smart," Robin replied coldly, not looking at him. "Blackmailing the almighty Batman's partner into working for you…"
Slade laughed quietly.
"And again, your concern is with those around you. How many times do I have to tell you… this isn't about your worthless friends, or Batman. It's about you, Robin."
"I would be nothing if not for him. I wouldn't be Robin."
"Ah, you will always be nothing, Robin, unless you allow me to open up the true potential within you. The Bat taught you martial arts. That's a step-up, but, overall, worthless."
"You can't be serious!" Robin snapped, incredulous. "You wouldn't even know who I was if not for what he taught me. Do you realize I'd just be some—"
"What you might have been is not important. What you can be is all that matters."
"What, a criminal like you?" Robin raised his chin. "Thanks, but I'll pass."
"It's rather too late for that," Slade murmured, his words velvet-lined. His stone-grey eye settled on the "S" floating over Robin's heart. "You've already sold your freedom to me…"
Watching his defiant new apprentice open his mouth to fire back again, Slade suddenly and effortlessly lashed out with his arm, backhanding the boy and sending him to the floor with a split lip.
"And you are disillusioned yet again," he went on drolly, watching in amusement as Robin sat up, dabbing at his bleeding lip with his leather-encased fingertips, stunned. "You think your credentials as Batman's sidekick mean something to me. You think that Batman means something to me. You are wrong, and I think you will find, Boy Wonder, that he means more to you than he does to anyone else, because his is the pedestal on which you were raised up. You glorify him, while I see him for what he truly is – an idiot in a bat costume. Do you think he is the monster? Do you think he is the one close to the line?"
Slade laughed softly again as Robin turned a gaze ablaze with hatred on him.
"Because he isn't," he finished, going in for the kill. "You are."
"I am the thing that keeps you up at night. The evil that haunts every dark corner of your mind. I will never rest… and neither will you." – Slade; Haunted
Raven, meditating in the middle of the Operations Center, slitted a violet eye open to investigate the small sound that was disturbing her.
Starfire, in purple pajamas, slouched right down on the couch cushions; gazing blankly out of the window, and giving a bowl of Count Chocula a vague beating with her spoon. She hadn't taken even a single bite, but the small scraping noise of the metal spoon against the ceramic bowl was distracting Raven.
Still, Starfire seemed pretty distracted herself. It was unlike her to be up this early – it was only 7:30am. Cyborg and Beast Boy were still asleep.
This morning, so was Robin. He was usually prowling around by this time, making a racket with the radio and the toaster and the TV.
But perhaps this morning was a special circumstance. After all, he had almost lost his life last night…
Perhaps Raven knew this better than anyone else – after all, she had been inside his mind. She had seen what he had seen.
Scary stuff. Maybe not the end of the world, stuff like that; but being stalked by Slade…
Raven gave a little shiver.
No thanks.
Starfire, needless to say, was distressed by Robin's condition; truthfully, Raven didn't think there was anything to worry about now. The danger was over, and Robin was young and strong. He would recover, and quickly.
At least physically.
Although, on that note, they had left him to his own devices last night, after he had said he was going to go and get in some sleep. They had all felt that he most likely needed his privacy after his ordeal – but someone should check on him.
Shutting out Starfire – who was playing some kind of drum solo with that spoon now – Raven closed her eyes, centered herself, and sent her Soul Self soaring upwards out of her body and through the ceiling. It drifted up through a few more levels, until, finally, she hit Robin's aura and came to a floating halt.
Within her solid body's mind, she could see that she was in his room; it was still rather dark, and the curtains were drawn.
Makes a change.
She'd thought that perhaps he wasn't still asleep – or maybe hadn't even gone to sleep at all. But no, he was out for the count in long pajamas, lying on his stomach.
Even in the dark, she could see some of the worst bruises – large, and such a deep blue they were almost black. He looked peaceful at the moment, but he was going to be in a lot of pain when he woke up.
And the worst of it was that, despite his unstable mind-frame last night, and his belief that he truly had been fighting Slade… he had technically done this damage to himself.
His obsession – his inability to let go – had nearly destroyed him.
And maybe, since Slade hadn't really been there, it yet would.
Such was Slade – and such was Robin. She'd seen it in him, all those months and months ago, when they all first became a team.
The leader – and the hero – who could save others; but not himself.
"It's the end of the world. Did you think it would be easy?" – Slade; The End Pt II
I've never seen anything like it.
Not even in my worst nightmares – and I've had some pretty bad ones – have I ever seen anything like this.
Raven has done what she's been saying she would. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.
She's ended the world.
She protected us. Well, I'm still alive, anyway. I woke up alone. I followed a raven here; to the top of the TV surveillance tower.
And now what?
I just kneel here on the glass and the metal, because what else can I do?
There's nothing left. Even Raven has gone.
To be linear, Raven was born of rape to an Earth woman, the daughter and heir of Trigon, an interdimensional demon. She was born to fulfil a prophecy; this prophecy. The coming of Trigon, and the end of the world.
Bad credentials; but not her fault.
No, I know whose fault this really is. Trigon could never have achieved his goal without help; and we know Raven certainly didn't give it to him.
Time and time again, the equation comes out the same.
The Teen Titans may be facing their darkest hour yet.
And this time, Slade really has a lot to answer for.