|Sharp Objects and Blonde Memories
Author: ABoxFullOfSharpObjects PM
Slade thinks too much...Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Slade - Words: 1,202 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 9 - Published: 07-30-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2510235
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Was this trip really necessary?
SO: I wrote this before. But I didn't like it. So I made it over. If I still don't like it, I'll take it down and try again. But this one feels a little better. You be the judge. Spoilers, if you want to call them that, for Slade's history.
But not the same type of thing other people had.
Not the same way Cyborg had a thing for pink-haired girls. And the way Robin had a thing for alien girls with natural hair colors that could only be gained on this planet with hair dye or an anime series. And most certainly not in the way that Beast boy had a thing for blondes.
No, he wasn't attracted in that fashion.
More the way a cutter was attracted to sharp objects.
For his attraction did nothing but cut. Deep.
Luckily though, he could keep his mind occupied to avoid thinking about such things. Plotting and planning and having a million things going on, and another million waiting to be put into motion. Only to be replaced by yet another million things coming together in his mind. Even when he slept, when he calmed down enough to sleep, he dreamed of even more plans and ideas. Things he could be doing, should be doing instead of sleeping.
Unfortunately, while his mind could function without sleep for a long period of time, his body could not. His reaction time suffered, his stamina leveled off. None of these things he could afford to happen, so while training to function without sleep was something he wasn't unfamiliar with, he recognized that sleep was not a luxury.
It didn't hurt that while he was sleeping, the Boy Wonder wasn't.
Though, there were times when his mind functioned a little too well. His blonde deal was one of them. His personal sharp object was blonde hair. For it reminded him of things he'd rather forget. Memories that were best forgotten in old age. But even that wasn't promised to him. Military training proving the better survivor than deterioration.
For instance, his hair was blonde when he was a kid. The brightest blonde you would ever see. Even Terra would be jealous. When he was a child, not unlike the Boy Wonder and Bionic Teen, he was relatively normal. He had his quirks like any kid. A bit of a smart mouth and a bad temper. But he got along. Until...when he was older...that day came...And...
Abruptly, Slade ceased the thought from coming full circle. He did not want to think about that. Growing annoyed with the silence aside from the clicking gears and for lack of anything to do aside from what had already been done, or breaking into something new, he pushed against his throne-like chair to stand. Even though various pieces of metal decorated his suit, he made no sound as he walked towards his living quarters.
Heavy boots padded down the hall until he reached the door second to the end. Should anyone come this far, they would expect his room to be at the end. The second to last door would be overlooked. As it often was unless you were checking every, single door. In which case, there were surprises in store for such unfortunate souls.
The door slid open, and he walked into his room. Simplistic in it's decoration. Being a bed, a mirror, a closet, and a door to an adjoining bathroom. Sentimental objects were useless, got in the way and could be used against you in times of war. He was never the sentimental type anyway. Memories were meant to be forgotten.
Otherwise they just caused you pain. Like sharp objects.
His sons, his sons had blonde hair. At least they had the last time he had seen them. Hot-headed Grant, who wanted to be just like him, but didn't have the patience and willing to learn from his mistakes. Joseph who was apparently nothing like him. At least as much as his ex-wife wanted him to know.
The right side of his face began to throb. Like he had been hit.
There's a phantom pain in my face, and a real pain in my ass. Fantastic.
Keeping the lights out, he made sure the door shut behind him with his foot, then removed his mask to massage his temples. He could go on for days, really, he could, and not feel fatigue. But sleeping would give him refuge from his own mind. Recharging to full 100 is always better than 95.
When opportunity knocks, you let him in. Otherwise he'll get pissed off and won't be back around for a while. And the Titans did not need anything else in their favor to annoy him or his plans. Besides, it would irk Robin to know that he was able to sleep at night with all the things he had done, and planning things he would do. While some of the work force of the city, himself included remains sleepless in their constant fight to take him down.
Obsessed they were.
Just like a cutter with their favorite blade.
Terra had blonde hair. It wasn't anything special. He and his sons had a better shade, he thought. But he was biased. Terra reminded him a lot of his son Grant. Their tempers, their hate for the world, their willingness to use their power to harm and get revenge. The fear of having yet something else taken away by those who did the taking all their lives.
So young and yet so bitter...The world is black.
The same color old, dried blood was.
Freed by sharp objects.
His other son Joseph, had curly blonde hair. While Grant preferred physical activities, Joseph had preferred working with his hands. He wondered if he had spent more time at home, than on duty if he would be in the same place now. Or still have a family. Would he have been able to prevent that day...?
Alright. Stop thinking Slade. Get in the bed. Go to sleep. Wake up. Make someone suffer. Outsmart the Titans. Piss Robin off. Come home. Kick Terra's ass. Get back in the bed. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.
Securing his mask back in place, Slade flopped on the bed; back first. Some might have said that evil masterminds of great crimes and punishments did not flop on their beds. They found some diabolical way to get in it that would no doubt cause some innocent pain, discomfort and general scarring for life.
Slade...was not one of those masterminds.
It's my bed, and I'll flop if I want to.
His hands laced behind his neck, ankles crossed one over the other, the single-eyed super genius closed said steel-colored ocular and prepared to occupy himself until sleep came.