X Eyes the Robin

Disclaimor: Don't own Teen Titans, never have, never will. If I did, Slade would already have an origin story, X would have more episodes, Robin would get raped on a regular basis, and Starfire would be back on her own planet. See why I don't own it?

Pairings: RedX and Robin, RedX and Slade, one sided Slade Robin... uhh.. I have no idea anymore.

Rating: M (decided)

Notes: This hasn't been updated in a year, but people still keep reviewing it. Over and over. I thought it was dead (And terribly written, personally), but I've decided to update just to see how it goes. I almost don't want to, since I know it'll get pretty involved if I keep going, but.. I'm a glutton for punishment. If it becomes another TBAHC, so be it I suppose. (Not that that's a bad thing!) Since this is a test, this chapter will be kind of short- but I hope you guys like it, besides.

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It was night. The moon was hidden behind thick, dark clouds and the scenery was so black that one could forget that the moon had even existed. Most were asleep in Jump City, or preparing for such; but even now police sirens were echoing screams through the streets and beaming dilating red and blue lights into apartment windows in a hectic rush; they were searching for him, scowering the streets for any sign of him, any clue as to where he'd fled. But they'd know no luck tonight, nor any; as quick as he'd come, he'd gone, and X knew they'd never find him. Not tonight or ever.

As he'd steadily got more and more adept at being a high-end thief, he'd decided the first thing he needed was better transportation; a get-away vehicle. He knew his old motorbike wouldn't cut it anymore and he'd eventually be caught on such a lousy piece of machinery. As soon as he could, he purchased a new ride; his new motorcycle was sleek, sharp, cool-looking, and mind-blowingly fast- painted onyx black, with a neon red X looking like it had been gouged into the side of it with a knife; the stylized wheel caps were lined with red neon, and the control panel of the bike was also designed in the same glowing black-and-red design.

He was in the crummy part of town now; the part of the town that looked more like Gotham slums than anything else. He was long gone from the place where he'd stolen the weapons and electronics from, in the fancy-smancy part of town where the Pizza-place and Wayne Tech and Titans Tower- and all the most valuable things to steal- were all located; He was nearing the docks and heading north-west down the back-streets, swerving swiftly round parked cars at a comfortable speed. X deftly moved and poked a complicated touch-screen on the front module of his bike, and all at once the bright red colors of the bike faded away- X's version of 'stealth mode'. He was getting closer and closer to his new hideout, so he reasoned it would be a good idea not to give anyone any hints as to where it was located and just who was using it. Of course you could still hear the dull hum of the bike's engine and the screech of its tires, but to anyone who wasn't already looking for him, he and the bike were nothing but phantoms.

X took a few turns and he was past the docks; by now, the way back to his base was cemented in his memory, every street and every corner, even in the complete darkness. He revved the engines and the bike sped up smoothly, and he followed the internal map in his head until he finally came to the industrial wasteland that was the area surrounding his base.

He drove his bike into a garage, which was actually a fairly well-sized structure that looked like it had been designed to hold a personal jet; he wasn't quite that well-off to afford that yet, but he did keep his bike, a spare, and a black sports car inside. He parked the bike and shut it off, and the light from the bike's moniter faded away. He jumped off the bike and walked into the double-doors which still were difficult to open and close after being damaged so badly- he had to squeeze through them and he was lucky he was skinny enough, or else he'd have to find a different way to get inside.

He walked inside and pressed a button on a keypad located by the entrance- he'd installed it only a few weeks ago- and it caused all of the vertical monitors in the huge main lobby to suddenly turn on and show huge Xs on the screens, the same emblem as on his chest, hands, mask and now on his bike. An efficient way of lighting the room and saving energy.

Despite everything he'd done to make the run-down lair more livable, it was still damn cold. X visibly shivered and clutched his tattered cape around him, trudging over to the huge throne that was set right in front of the biggest moniter in the room. He walked to the base of it and climbed up the few steps of it, up to the seat of it and gratefully flopped down. The stone hardness of the seat did nothing to comfort, but he, who was in impeccable physical condition, still felt exhausted after the night's raid.

Sighing, he first shifts through the belt around his waist, and takes out what he'd abducted for the night- the first, a plain, ordinary-looking disk- the second, several miniature cantisters of xinothiium. They were some of the few that hadn't already been stolen by someone else, and soon, he'd have to start going after fellow criminals to get the power-supply he needed; if he didn't, his Red X suit would be nothing but a dress-up costume. And because of Robin's deviousness in stealing the belt right off his costume the last time they'd met, he'd been forced to have a brand new belt designed to be able to utilize the xinothiium. In the end, however, the best one he'd had made for himself (out at least thirty failures) was still inferior to Robin's original design, and took at least five times as much xinothiium to power the suit due to the generator's inefficiency.

The situation all around simply frustrated him; he both cursed and admired Robin for his ingenuity; he was confounded as to how Robin of all people had made the suit himself, how he'd made it so perfect.. hell, even how he got it to work! He was impressed but at the same time, he knew he could never use his Red X personae to its full potential unless he stole the belt back. And even then, if he was in Robin's situation, he'd be smarter than to let the same stupid mistake happen again; X knew that the best thing for Robin to have done was to destroy the belt himself.

But even more than that, the why of it all bothered him. Why had the boy even made the suit? Had he not known himself just how dangerous he'd made it, or had he taken that into consideration and had still resolved to make it? Why had he created it, but still continued to function as Robin? Why had he used illegal materials to make such a thing in the first place?

He realized that this wasn't like himself. He usually wasn't interested in the why and hows of things, just if they happened. He only believed in coincidences- not in luck or fate or anything remotely related.

X leaned his head back and brought his hands up to his mask; unlike the suit itself, the mask was made quite simply; a black cloth covering over the face, with a skull-like front-piece with eye-holes and whited-out lenses, with a streaked x across the forehead. He clipped off the front decorative piece and then slipped off the cottony-black underpiece and tossed them both down to his feet, too tired to treat them with any care. His forehead was sweaty and his black hair was pushed backwards in the shape of what the mask had been; he dug his fingers into his scalp and began to ruffle around his shaggy black hair until it wasn't in that helmet-head shape anymore, and it jutted out in a mess of disorderly tangles framing his face and sticking out in many directions.

X shifted slightly in his seat. He needed to piss.

He got up, yawning, and dragged his feet all the way down the steps of his throne, across the lobby, through an automatic door which led to a pitch-black hallway, and found one of many restrooms in the facility. He still didn't understand quite why or how the rooms were organized in this place, but he made a mental note of every room he found and how many floors he'd ventured through. This was the only restroom he knew how to reach by memory alone and was the closest.

Afterwards, he emerges from the bathroom, walks his way blindly through the pitch-black hallway, but instead of going back into the lobby, he takes a corner and makes a detour to a place he found once- he didn't feel like going out to eat tonight, and plus, the only places to eat at this hour were fast-food restaurants. He never could eat the food.

He found the room where the rations were stored; the mechanized door opened and a light automatically turned on, a single round fixture in the centre of the room. Red X stepped inside and started looking around and inspecting the foods that were neatly, painstakingly organized on the shelves that lined the walls. The food looked like it would belong in a military camp- there was nothing sweet or decadant, barely anything looked like it might taste good at all; only the bare essentials allowed. There were huge tubs of water, and most of the food was either vaccuum sealed or pre-cooked.

After looking around and finding almost nothing but tea, vegetables and healthy, protein-rich foods, he settled on a stray packet of ramen noodles. It was the most normal and simplest thing he could find.

He looked at the label. It was all in a language he couldn't understand, but there was a picture of a shrimp on it. He made a face of disgust at it but left the room with it tucked beneath his arm anyway.

He made his way back to the lobby, and the moment he crossed the threshold, he sensed something peculiar.

An unfamiliar presence?

Was he that perceptive?

He looked around. No- what was weird was that the vertical moniters, and the big centre moniter for Slade's computer, which had once had his trademark X's blazing on their screens- were all shut off. Black.

Dead.

The giant room was completely dark. And dead silent. The weird kind of silent.

Red X subconsciously clutched the packet of noodles closer to his chest as he started to walk.

His footsteps made loud sounds- louder than usual. He did it step-by-step, cautiously, paranoia itching the corners of his brain. How had the computers all shut off by themselves? Had this particular room simply run out of power? He knew the whole place was somehow self-powered.. maybe some of the mechanisms had malfunctioned?

He returned to the entrance and to the touch-pad he'd pressed before in order to turn on the moniter's big X-logos to light the room before. He couldn't see it in the darkness, but he knew pretty much where it was on the wall and he felt around for it. He found it.

He pressed the right button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again, and nothing happened.

He pressed it again just to be sure.

Nothing happened.

He glared angrily in the darkness. He cursed himself for taking out all of the old overhead lights that had been in the rafters.

Suddenly he thought he heard something. A weird sound, like rustling- a movement. A shiver crawled up his spine.

His heart raced. He knew what it was! He saw many movies with the same unsettling situations as these.. weird occurences that you can't explain- disturbing feelings of presences.. He knew it!

Slade Wilson's ghost was haunting his old hideout!

X bit his lip. If that was true, he was going to have to put up with a ghost haunting him for the rest of his life. And Slade Wilson's, no doubt. He was scared- but- almost honored. It would be tiresome having to put up with petty little tricks like these all the time, though-

-Then he heard something again! The same noise as before, only closer and louder. Something was definitely moving around in the room! He wondered if Slade Wilson's ghost was angry at him for setting up in his base? He wondered if Wilson was going to bother him as long as he stayed?

Well, he wouldn't back down! Slade Wilson or not- ghost or no ghost, this was his place now!

X took a deep breath and shut his eyes, and at the same time placed his gloved hands together in a mock-prayer and said very loudly in the echoing room,"Dear Slade Wilson's angry, belligerent, vengeful ghost! Please don't mess with me anymore, and please let the power start up again! If you're pissed at me for taking your place... well.. c'mon! You're dead and I'm not, so it belongs to me and I'm not going to leave no matter what you do!"

All at once, in one split second, he felt breath on the back of his neck and heard a deep, throaty voice laugh softly beside his ear and it whispered, "Interesting..."

"Oh, Fuck!!!" X scrambled away in surprise and utter fear and shock- tripping over his own cape and landing on his ass and smacking the back of his head against the floor. His ramen flew out of his hands and landed on the ground, landing with a plastic-sounding thud.

The same laugher floated luxuriously from the darkness at X, the sort of laughter that makes you feel like- even if you can't see the person- you feel like they're smiling at you. Amused. In this case, not in a very good way.

"So you're the Red X..." it says smoothly, "I've heard much about you. I've been meaning to meet you face to face."

Suddenly a blinding spotlight fell on both of them and simultaneously the light from the moniters were all restored, brightening the room even further.

X, sprawled out on the ground in less than a noble position, (tangled up in his own cape no less) stared with planet-shaped eyes at the creature now standing completely in front of him in impeccably glaring clarity.

It was the man he'd been waiting to meet since he was a little boy- and he felt a mixture of extreme anxiousness, joy, horrendous fear, intimidation, and strangely- and something else.

The man was huge- tall, well-built, and filled out in the most important places. His body was a fixture of manliness, reminiscent of well-toned steel; clad in form-fitting black-what looked like spandex-material, whilst covered head-to-toe with sharp, gleeming, polished steel pieces of armor covering his shoulders, forearms, thighs, stomache, shoes- and a circlet of metal covering incredibly broad shoulders. He was at least six feet four inches tall and at least 220 pounds from X's viewpoint, and something about him made him seem even bigger- a strange dominance that filled the room at his presence- an aura of absolute control and self-awareness.

Of perfection.

He stands with his head tilted slightly back, like someone who is bored, condescendingly gazing downward at his doomed prey; his arms are crossed behind his slightly arched back, and his thick legs are spread gently apart in superbly balanced posture. He wore the distincitve mask that Red X had come to recognize very well from stories and pictures, files and archives and newspapers; a black and copper mask, with only one eye.

Red X just stared, dumb-founded with his mouth open. He didn't know what to do or what to say- all his life he'd had something snappy to say, something snide, a come-back, a remark- an observation- anything! But now his tongue was caught in his mouth and felt as though it had swelled too big to move to make words.

Was that the sort of effect this guy had on people? On everybody?

X watched with confusion and surprise as Wilson's bigger figure suddenly bent and knelt down to pick something up. The man deftly picked up the pack of noodles X had thrown and held it up and observed it in front of his masked face. He turned it over and looked like he was reading the foreign language. X's face burned red with a weird sort of embarrassment, still staring up at the man in front of him in awe, still not letting it soak in that this was really happening.

Slade tilted his head and held out the bag of noodles with his thumb and ring finger, barely touching it and treating it like it were an object of disease. "This is high in sodium. It's no good." He tosses it squarely and perfectly between Red X's bent legs, and then places his hands on his hips and continues to observe the boy sitting dumbly at his feet. "Hmm...You're very thin. But you're pretty good-looking, besides.. if you'd just close your mouth for a moment.."

Red X subconsciously and involuntarily clamps his mouth shut, as though it had been a direct command from Slade- not just a casual suggestion.

Slade chuckles salaciously at that.

And Red X doesn't mind it.

But then in a moment, Slade grew suddenly quiet. X tilted his head in confusion, and Slade touched his own mask quietly in contemplation.

Slade then said very softly- gently, "Get up."

X forced himself to stand up now, hoping that the shock and trauma of the last several minutes of happenings had worn off, and he wouldn't get weak in the knees or fall over. The minute he stood up, Slade grabbed his chin and yanked his face upwards. X flinched; the man's gloves were hard and cold and his touch was rough and impassionate. He'd yanked away from him if he hadn't been so intrigued.

He heard something from within Slade's mask that sounded like someone licking their lips. "You look a lot like him. In fact, the resemblence is astonishing.. if only you were a little younger. And I doubt Robin has red eyes, like you do.."

It took him a moment, but X suddenly understood what Slade meant. Slade thought that he looked like Robin. And, he supposed, he had to agree with him. When X had first seen Robin, he'd been attracted to him- but at the same time, surprised by their similarities. They had the same face structure- identical noses, the same color hair, and if it weren't for a few years of difference, they would look like they were twins. He himself had longer hair, but he supposed Robin got his trimmed and styled in order to be able to be so perfectly spiked up in that way. X's was more grown out, more wild- a more mature style.

X suddenly remembered all of the files Wilson had on Robin on his computer, all of the secretive videos and the pictures and stats, and measurements..

...And for some reason, he got really excited.

X gulped, "So what if I do?"

Slade let his knuckles caress X's jawline, his fingers then going up to touch his cheek; X stared into the black eye in the mask and it looked very interested, and very...lecherous. X didn't know why he didn't pull away- but he didn't. He too was still.. interested.

Slade whispered heatedly in response,

"Then I... think I want to have a little fun with you.. before I kick you out."

-TO BE CONTINUED-

Note: Yah.. that was all written at 4 o'clock in the morning-ish.. this really is just creative writing to me, and it actually helped! (I got a new idea for TBAHC, haha) It may be overly silly in parts, but I'm pretty much doing with this what I typically can't do with TBAHC. (Basically sprinkled humor and sex everywhere) Plus, it'll have a decent story and hopefully won't be super long.. so I hope you enjoyed!