Hello again after a very long silence on my end. As I've gotten done with my finals and find myself with plenty of time to myself again, I've decided to get back on the horse and finally write up another chapter. I've also gone over the old chapters to sweep for spelling and grammar errors, fix it up nice and neat, and I've added a new scene to the prologue! Hopefully you all with find this worth the long wait. As usual, I own precisely dick. This is all DC and Cartoon Network.

Chapter 5

"Jesus Christ, Jonesy, you're on the clock! Put that Goddamn thing out." Sharpes' harsh voice barked, startling the lanky little crook. Elijah Jones, Jonesy to his small circle of friends, had a few bad habits, and they'd worn steadily on the nerves of his employers; in this case, a few hits off a thin reefer of Gotham Groove to calm his nerves had set the older gangster off, and Jonesy swore as he tossed the weed aside, coughing as he tried his best to look professional after that embarrassing little display. The others, Eddie and Carmine, had a good laugh while they loaded the last of the huge Lex Corp crates into the delivery truck, and he could only grumble and heft his uzi, shuffling back to his spot outside the hangar. He was easily the smallest member of this crew, standing at roughly 5'5", his body thin and wirey, and his smooth, youthful face gave the impression of a kid straight out of high school, at least when he was off the clock.

He'd been with this crew for about a month now, and he was still unsure of the whole organized crime scene. Before, he'd just been a petty crook ripping off ATMs and making nickel-dime deals on what little grass he was willing to part with. Then Teddy had told him about a boss looking for extra guns for some big scheme, and when he heard that they were paying five hundred a week for just watching out for cargo at the airport, he couldn't say no. After the first week, he'd started to regret his hasty decision. It had turned out this wasn't just some ambitious mob boss trying to get a step ahead of the competition and the law; it was goddamn Slade himself calling the shots, and Jonesy had nearly soiled himself when he found that out. Was there even a word for just how in over his head he was?

Sharpes growled sourly and stomped off toward the driver's seat of the truck, slamming the door in frustration, and Jonesy did his best to avert his eyes. Hopefully Carmine or Eddie would be willing to swap places with him in the back so didn't have to endure the shame of riding up front with the vet. He wondered just what the hell they were moving if the needed four guys with SMGs and shotguns to guard it. It wasn't like the cops would search this hangar, since it was just one in a long list of buildings signed under a seemingly never-ending series of dummy corporations. How would they even guess this place was Slade's?

There was a sudden thud on the roof, and Jonesy's head snapped up at the sound. Everyone else looked up too, guns in hand and ready for anything. Nobody was going to fire until they were damn sure these was trouble, with airport security only a stone's throw away. They stared up for a long moment, not moving as the silence after the initial sound went on. Eddie was the first to lower his piece, letting the shotgun barrel rest at hip-level before Carmine joined him. Jonesy had started to do the same, but almost the second he did, he felt the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life shoot through his jaw. He'd been hit with something hard and metal, and he felt teeth rolling around in his mouth. It hung open, obviously broken as he howled in agony, the sound drowned out by gunfire. The last thing he saw before he began to black out from the pain was a flash of red, yellow and green. He thought of Boy George, for some reason.

TTTTT

The security was about what Robin had expected. He'd gotten the first of the goons by surprise, putting him out of the fight with the first swing of his staff. The other two had reacted almost instantaneously, buckshot and 9mm bullets filling the air. He danced around them, rolling and weaving as fast as they could aim. The shotguner, a burly balding man with pig-like eyes, tried to play it smart, firing his 12 gauge ahead of his friend's shots, trying to catch Robin where he thought he would dodge. It was a good effort, but it wasn't near good enough to beat the boy wonder. A boomerang in the barrel ended the big man's effort, and he screamed as the shotgun's barrel burst in his hand when he squeezed the trigger on reflex. It distracted the other gunman long enough for Robin to close in, thrusting the end of the staff into the man's gut and knocking all the wind out of him. The second blow across the side of his head sent him sprawling to the ground. The shotguner was all that was left, and he'd dropped the remains of his weapon, a pearl-handled stiletto in his hand now.

"Really?" Robin asked with a slight smirk to his lips. The goon scowled at him for a long moment, looking like he was going to make a lunge with that blade. Then, it seemed reason won out, and he almost sheepishly pocketed the knife before he started to back away. Robin couldn't help but smirk. Maybe some gangsters weren't as dumb as they looked.

The moment of humor didn't last very long, though as the truck roared to life and started to back out of the hangar as fast as the driver could manage, and Robin had to dive out of the way to keep from being run over as it came speeding toward him. The shotgunner bolted for the passenger's side then, almost ripping the door open and leaping inside. Robin hissed as he saw the truck turning to flee, and knowing he wasn't going to catch up with it, all he could do was reach into his utility belt and reach for a tracker. He hurled it at the escaping goons, and smiled with satisfaction as he saw the device clamp onto the bumper. Even if he couldn't tail them now, he'd be able to follow them. They were out of sight a moment later, and Robin frowned as he turned his attention toward the two goons that had been left behind. The one with the broken jaw wouldn't be of much help for obvious reasons, but the second could still talk. He was starting to come to when Robin knelt beside him, and when he saw the Titan's eyes narrowed right at him, he swore and started to reach for his gun. A quick smack across the forearm with the end of his staff put an end to that thought.

"Your friends. Where are they taking that tank?" Robin demanded in as harsh and commanding a voice as he could muster. Even with the tracker, it was no guarantee that they would lead him to their hideout. It wouldn't be the first time someone had been smart enough to stop and sweep for bugs after a fight with him. The thug growled and spat, nursing his arm as he glared back at him.

"Eat me. I ain't saying shit." The Titan leader sighed, standing and grabbing the man by the back of his leather jacket. He tried to resist, but it was difficult with only one arm, and the threat of another good whack with that staff was enough to stay the good one from doing anything too hasty.

"Propeller or the forklift?" Robin asked almost casually. The thug blinked once, then stared straight up at him.

"W-what?" There was a squeak to his voice.

"Propeller or the forklift? Your choice in how we do this." He could practically hear his victim trying to keep his bladder and bowels from releasing now.

"W-wa-wait! Stop you friggin' psycho! I don't know where they take the goddamn trucks, I ride in the back an' watch the door here! They don't let me see the route!" Robin listened to his tone, the pitch in the goon's voice, his breathing. He was telling the truth. He released the man's collar, then without a word snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. As he started to cuff the second one, who was now whimpering and crying pathetically on the ground, he heard the other's voice shouting back at him.

"You better friggin' hope you catch Slade before he gets to your lil' green friend! The shit he says he's gonna do to him, man!" He stopped, and turned sharply back at the goon with eyes narrowed and his hands balling into fists.

"What are you talking about? Why does Slade want Beast Boy?" Robin snarled, getting into the man's face, the sharp end of one boomerang now pressing against the man's throat. He swallowed hard, but looked back at the teen with defiance in his eyes.

"He's offerin' fifty grand to whoever brings his sorry ass in alive. Guess he figures it's his fault Terra left. He's gonna get his money's worth outta that turd's hide, and he's gonna make sure Terra knows about every lil' detail." And then the goon laughed, loud and malevolent. Robin's teeth gritted hard, and with one last snarl of rage he backhanded the cuffed man to the ground. Retracting his staff, he stomped out the hangar with his communicator in hand.

"Titans, this is Robin. In the living room, wait for me. We all need to talk."

TTTTT

"He wants Beast Boy?" Terra asked with wide eyes, one hand gripping the arm of the couch as tightly as the should could, while the other held the changeling's. Everyone else looked roughly the same, save Raven who bore her usual frowning gloom. Robin stood in front of them, arms crossed and his eyes shifting between his team, stopping on Beast Boy and Terra, nodding in answer to her question.

"That's what that thug said. Slade's figured that it's him that made you decide to stay with us. He's going to want to make an example. Fifty thousand to whoever brings him in." All of the Titans were chilled at those words, though they couldn't say they were surprised. Terra continued to stare at him, the look on her face one of horror mixed with a trace of anger. Robin knew well what those two felt for each other, and he couldn't blame her for her reaction. "I'm not going to allow anyone on my team to be put in any more danger than necessary. From now on, Beast Boy's not going to be left alone out there. If we have to split up for any reason, it's groups of two."

His tone left no room for argument, and it seemed no one was in the mood to disagree, anyway. Beast Boy looked for a moment like he wanted to protest, but he quickly let it drop. Much as he might value his pride, he knew that Robin was right, and he had no desire to make Terra worry about him being kidnapped by Slade for torture or whatever else that maniac had planned. Robin looked at all of them again, then raised a hand to dismiss the team.

"I need to talk to you, Terra. Alone." Terra stopped, looking back at him with unsurprised. She gave Beast Boy a soft smile and a peck on the cheek before he left a bit reluctantly. A moment later they were alone, neither looking the other in the eye.

"He's doing it to get at me, isn't he?" Terra broke the silence, looking up at Robin. She still had some of that fear in her eyes, but the rest of her face was starting to contort with anger. Robin nodded.

"He tried the same thing with me. He infected the others with nanobots, threatened to kill them if I didn't follow him." He kept his gaze steady, though his expression softened just a bit. "We're going to stop him. Don't let him intimidate you like he did me." There was another long silence, and again Terra was the one to break it.

"I don't want Beast Boy hurt because of me, especially after what I was so ready to do to you guys. Maybe I should just leave, let Slade chase me for a while." Robin stopped her right then, one hand closing around her shoulder and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"That's out of the question. You're a Titan and I won't have one of my team putting themselves in that kind of danger, no matter what the reason." The words struck the geomancer like a ton of bricks. She looked at Robin, how he looked at her. It was a brotherly gaze, fierce and unshakeable. A look she hadn't seen since the last time Brion had been around. She nodded, now ashamed she'd even contemplated that idea. Sure it might have distracted Slade from the rest of the Titans, but what would it do for them to see her disappear on them again? It would have broken BB's heart.

"Alright. Sticking to kicking his ass, then." The both smirked at that, and she felt her leader give her shoulder a squeeze.

"Good. Keep up that attitude. We're going to need it." And then he was gone, leaving Terra alone in the living room. Her gaze turned over toward the giant windows, the view of the cityscape before her. Slade and his gang were out there somewhere, waiting for their time to make their next move. Her hands balled, and she felt her lip pull into a frown. No more running from her troubles. She was going to face whatever came her way with her friends. She was claiming her own place in life.

TTTTT

"Only two lost, then?" Slade asked, Sharpes and the last man, Carmine he thought his name was, standing before him, still shaken by their close encounter with Robin. Sharpes nodded, trying his best to look composed before his employer.

"Just a coupla the new guys. Nobody important or that knows where this place is. Ditched the tracker bird-boy stuck on the truck too." Slade looked approvingly at his underling's thoroughness. Of course he'd worked long enough in Gotham to know the Bat-family's tricks, especially the ones that could compromise the entire operation. Rising from his chair, he beckoned the two gangsters to follow him, and they did so without hesitation. Several others were moving the last of the cloning tanks in with the rest, the other ten already filled with 1174/AA and growing their specimens. Ten days was all he would need to buy, and then he would have total control over this city. For now, though, there was other work to be done.

"We still have business to tend to before the final stage can begin. For now we lay low. Relax, but keep your lips tight, and be prepared to act on a moment's notice." Sharpes and the other were all too happy to comply with that order, having been working almost non-stop on this operation for over a week now. "Before you go, Sharpes, tell Shade, Parasite and Sportsmaster to be ready for a...special assignment very soon. I need them to tend to a more personal mater." His left hand grunted in acknowledgment of the order, immediately pulling out his cellphone and striking the speed-dial.

Slade looked into one of the tanks, at the tiny, infant face floating in the orange growth accelerant. The subject inside was already the size of an eight month old child, and by the end of the week it would probably be a teenager. Its features were a perfect match of it's template's at that age, and the mastermind couldn't help the satisfied smile that crossed his lips at that sight. If they fought as well as the real thing, then neither the Teen Titans or the Justice League would be able to stop him. He'd have his own little fiefdom in the palm of his hands, and an army to keep it there, and perhaps even the rest of the United States if he started to cultivate even greater ambitions. But that was for another time; the present plant was big enough, and he'd seen more than enough times the dangers of overreaching in these kinds of schemes. Of course, back then he'd been the hired muscle. Now, he was the one calling the shots, and he'd learned well from the mistakes of his former employers.

For now, though, it was time to sit back and relax for a short time. After all, his boys had some growing up to do, and it wouldn't do in the slightest to introduce them to the Titans before they were in prime shape. He'd enjoy the sight of their blood on the pavement, and their heads on his wall.