Into the Depths – Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three
The Summer Solstice

June 12th, 2009. Friday, 7:05 am.

It was downright disturbing.

Slade was a man who rarely showed intense emotion – except when he was angry. True gentleness came when it was just the two of them. Though, Dick was beginning to see the man grow and increase with softness when dealing with him.

But to see unbridled fear in this man’s face… It stopped Dick’s heart; it was terrifying.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” asked Dick, uneasily curling his arms around his chest.

Slade didn’t answer. The man unwaveringly stared at him, as if he weren’t really looking at Dick. Then, his grey blue eye focused on him. In an instant, Slade grabbed Dick by the wrist and dragged him out of the room.

“What—?”

“Be silent.”

Dick sucked in his breath at the man’s sharp tone. He hadn’t done anything wrong, so Slade wasn’t mad at him. Which meant something else was wrong. Without a word, Slade pulled him in his bedroom, locking the door behind them. Dick was pulled forward, before Slade jabbed a finger towards one of the office chairs.

“Sit.”

Dick didn’t move. “Dad, what’s going on? What—”

“You will obey me!” snapped Slade furiously, nostrils flaring “You will obey me or else you won’t like the consequences!

The man’s tone was so sharp, so filled with venom, that Dick flinched horribly. He took a step back, swallowing fearfully. Something about that tone reminded Dick of the old man – that man who was cruel, that man who wasn’t his father.

Dick’s eyes burned; his lips trembled.

“Now be quiet and sit down,” said Slade, pointing at the chair.

Dick didn’t move, yet again.

“Dad,” whispered Dick. He almost lost his control when he saw the anger rising in the man’s face, but he continued, still softly, “You’re scaring me.”

There was a sharp inhale. Upon seeing the expression on Dick’s face, the man softened. Pain crossed Slade’s features. He stepped forward, slowly approaching, but something in Dick made him recede backwards. The injury in the man’s face worsened.

“Dick…” whispered Slade. He closed his eye, taking a deep breath, before gazing at Dick. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Dick only nodded, unable to say anything. The man sighed and dragged a hand over his face. He motioned to the chair once more.

“Sit down… please.”

This time, Dick obeyed. He tentatively sat on the edge of the chair, gazing up at Slade with worry in his eyes. The man noticed the unease. Slade made a visible effort to calm down. He took a step closer and Dick refrained from pulling back. The man knelt down in front, placing his hands onto Dick’s middle arms.

“I need you to listen to everything I say,” said Slade, his voice low. “I need you to obey without question and on my first request.”

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” whispered Dick, his hands clenching together. “You’re not saying anything. Dad, it’s scaring me. What’s going on?”

There was a squeeze on Dick’s arms.

“I’ll tell you after I’m sure,” said Slade. “Just do as I say, please.”

Slade saying ‘please’ only attested to how bad it must have been. Something was wrong and Slade wasn’t going to tell him yet. Dick nodded, whispering, “Yes, sir.” His growing fears weren’t alleviated when the man stood up. Dick watched as Slade began working. The man started his computer, before pulling out different things that Dick recognized were used in testing.

“Take off your shirt.”

Dick hesitated, unsure if he should listen to that request. When Slade stopped and looked at him with a pointed stare, Dick fumbled with the edges of his shirt, still stalling for time, before he finally complied with the man’s request. He sat down on the edge of the chair, biting his lower lip nervously.

It didn’t get any better when Slade started to attach things to Dick’s chest.

He’d seen them before. He shivered when the man attached the white circular object to his skin. It was cold. Dick glanced over at the computer. He could see a number of statistics on the screen. There was a heart monitor, recording his heart rate. Dick wondered if it’d go up now. There had to be something wrong, if Slade was doing this kind of testing.

Before long, there were multiple attachments on Dick’s chest, over his heart. Slade was sticking two of them to his temples, when the heart rate monitor started to increase. As Slade lifted his chin, attaching one directly in the center of Dick’s neck, he clicked his tongue.

“Calm down.”

“Yeah, sure,” drawled Dick, uneasy still. “Easy for you to say. Your dad isn’t attaching strange weird things to your chest and not saying anything about it. Break it to me easy, Dad, am I dying?”

“I’ll tell you soon.”

Not even sarcasm was working. “Doesn’t make right now any better. Oh, look, you avoided my question. That makes me feel even better.”

Dick’s heart rate rose, the monitor recording it perfectly.

“Where’d you get that sarcasm?”

“My father, who’s conveniently still not explaining to me what the freaking heck’s going on!”

“Dick, I said—”

“Not telling me is freaking me out! Ach! That tickles!”

“Just hold still!”

Dick had no choice but to obey that. It was awkward sitting on the edge of his seat with strange things attached to his bare chest. His throat itched and he restrained himself from scratching at the object on his skin. It was a long ten minutes, as Slade studied the statistics on his computer, when he finally sat back in his seat. Dick could almost see the invisible burden lifting from his shoulders; the relief was so powerful in his eye.

So, was everything all right now? Geez, the man had gotten his heart rate up for nothing!

“Dad… is everything fine?”

“It is.”

“So…”

“But it shouldn’t be. Yet, all your vitals are normal. Almost better than normal, but nothing that could be considered abnormal.”

At that, Slade leaned forward, dropping his face into his hands. He rubbed his skin for a moment, gently tugging at his goatee. Dick hesitated, before plucking the testing equipment from his skin. When the final one was removed, he grabbed his shirt and slipped it back on. Then, he pulled his chair nearer and placed a hand onto Slade’s shoulder.

“Dad, can you explain what’s going on now?”

There was a nod.

“I don’t think you understand how much you frightened us,” whispered Slade. “How much you frightened me… You were very sick, coughing up blood, thrashing like a possessed beast, and even scratching, ripping at your face. You could’ve died, that’s how bad it was.”

Dick leaned closer, before he pressed his weight against the man. He could hear the fear in the man’s voice, but his body betrayed nothing.

“Coughing up blood is serious. I thought the serum I made for you would work,” continued Slade, still in a low whisper, his voice hoarse. “Except, I made a mistake. I chose the wrong syringe. Instead of giving you the specific healing serum made for you, I gave you a pure version, one untainted with anything else.”

Dick frowned. A pure version? That meant… Ugh, either way, it wasn’t lovely. But that also meant…

“You made my version for me, right? Because otherwise…”

“Otherwise, the pure version was supposed to turn one into something like me. It’s not what changed me, but I had thought that anything directly from me would create duplicate results.”

“Meaning?” whispered Dick, although he had a sinking suspicion what it was.

“I didn’t want the same thing for you,” whispered Slade hoarsely. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Immortality, when the world doesn’t share it, is a curse, not a gift from the Gods.”

Slade still didn’t look up from his hands.

“If by my mistake, I had turned you into the very thing I detest, I could never forgive myself.”

Immortality. Slade would never die. It was something Dick always found comfort in, but he hadn’t fully realized it tormented the man. He knew that he wanted a large family, one that would never leave Slade’s side as the years turned into decades, until they turned into centuries. Dick didn’t want to die and leave Slade behind.

But…

Dick knew he didn’t want to live forever – he knew who was waiting for him.

“But I’m not immortal, am I?” asked Dick, glancing at the screen. Slade shook his head. “But that’s good, right?”

“Of course, it is,” said Slade, lifting up from his hands. “What I can’t understand is why. Why hasn’t the serum changed you? By all rights, it should’ve. Instead, it only accelerated your healing. So much so, it gave you new strength. This also seemed to fuel the enemy with energy. I had to sedate you then, otherwise you would’ve harmed yourself further.”

“But I’m all right now,” said Dick. “The serum didn’t change anything, so—”

“But something did,” said Slade, interrupting him. He drew in a deep breath, the light in his eye serious. “Something healed you. It’s not normal for you to have been so ill and so weak, that it was going to take you months to return to full health—don’t look at me like that; yes, it was. You just didn’t get that. Now you’re suddenly well? It’s nothing short of a—”

Slade cut off, his eye widening with a dark light. His jaw clenched. Then, his eye narrowed.

“Nothing short of a…” began Dick, knowing what the man was going to say. He paused, watching the dark emotions cross through Slade’s features. He quietly continued, “Of a miracle?”

“No, this isn’t a miracle,” snapped Slade, suddenly bolting to his feet.

“It could be—”

“There’s no such thing as miracles.”

“But Dad—”

Slade whirled around, the fury present in his eye. He pointed at Dick, before waving his hand through the air.

“There is a logical explanation for your instant healing. This wasn’t some miracle that some… some…”

Apparently, the man couldn’t verbalize what or who could’ve done such a miracle. Dick wasn’t close minded to the possibility. After all, his own dead mother had appeared to him – couldn’t get more open minded than that. Though, Dick figured it wasn’t a miracle, either. But he didn’t say as much. Slade was already in denial. The man was right, there had to be some reason why Dick was suddenly perfectly well.

But then, what was it?

“So, everything is all right, but we don’t know why,” said Dick, letting out a low sigh. He grinned impishly. “Wonderful. What’s for breakfast?”

Slade glared at him.

ooOOOOOoo

June 20th, 2009. Saturday,  6:37 am.

Much to Dick’s irritation, Slade hadn’t let the boy out of his sight for the next week. The boy had wanted to leave the haunt, to go right back to that blasted hero work, without so much as thinking about his health or the like. Stupid, foolish child; that boy was going to give Slade heart failure.

But he soon realized that Slade wasn’t going to bend on this, no matter how much protesting occurred. One eventful ‘conversation’ happened in the vicinity of the boy’s friends, in the which, Dick acted like any normal teenager – he thought Slade wouldn’t scold him in front of witnesses.

Slade had been more than accommodating in putting that notion to rest. At one particularly disrespectful moment, Slade had taken the boy by the ear and dragged him to his bedroom. Then, under no uncertain terms, told the overemotional boy if he didn’t get his act together and readjust his attitude, Slade would readjust it for him – and Dick would not find its outcome pleasant.

That shut the child up.

Not to mention, when the door open and found four eavesdropping friends in its wake, Slade was greatly amused by the color in Dick’s face. Well, if he had acted respectful in the first place, then that wouldn’t have happened. Slade wasn’t about to lose sleep over it.

Nonetheless, the boy still begged for a day out with his friends – though, now he begged when the two of them were alone or nowhere near his friends and in a much more respectful tone. Although, it was borderline whiny – far better than the ‘getting too big for his britches’ tone.

Dick didn’t know it, but Slade planned on letting the boy go out today. It’d been over a week and Dick hadn’t shown any irregular health issues. After so long, Slade really didn’t have any more excuses for not allowing Dick the freedom out.

So, Slade had already resigned himself to a long day of wondering and worrying. Blast it, he needed a constructive hobby now. Everything had been so crazy recently, he hadn’t had any time to breathe.

Though, he was pretty certain there wasn’t a future to worry about.

As Slade walked into the kitchen, intent in attempting to drown himself in some well deserved coffee, he gave the old man a nod, before turning to his task. For the first time in Slade’s life – at least the duration he’d known this old man – he heard Wintergreen utter a short string of profanity. Slade’s mouth dropped in shock as he glanced at the old man—this old man never had that way with words. Wintergreen was staring at him, his eyes wide in shock.

Slade raised an eyebrow. “Will, what on earth—?”

“Slade, what is…” breathed Wintergreen, his hand lifting slightly, his wrinkled face flushing. He appeared embarrassed by his slip, but his eyes were staring at Slade’s forehead, directly at the very center…

Blast it.

Slade put a hand to his forehead, slipping his fingers towards his temples. Heat emanated from his skin, a warning sign. He gritted his teeth, knowing what it meant, before dropping his hand to his side. He gazed at Wintergreen, keeping his expression emotionless and impassive. Silence rose between them, moments passing, as Slade waited.

“Slade…” murmured Wintergreen finally, horror etched across his features. “You didn’t.”

Slade’s eye narrowed. “I did,” snapped Slade, glaring at the old man. More horror flashed through the old man’s face. “What?” he snarled, defensive. “Still believe in the future now? Where’s all that blasted talk about faith and hope and believing that everything will be all right?” Slade scoffed elaborately. “What a crock!”

“I didn’t think you’d—”

“I’d what?” snarled Slade, furiously glaring now. “Your crap had an expiration date on it? Limit on how awful the—”

“Slade, stop!” shouted Wintergreen. He stepped forward, glancing down the hallway. No movement came from the boy’s bedroom. Wintergreen turned back to him. His tone dropped to a low whisper. “I didn’t think you’d contracted with the devil!”

Slade inhaled sharply. “You know.”

“Of course, I know!” snapped Wintergreen. He waved a hand at Slade’s forehead. “The Mark of Scath is engraved on your forehead and glowing like a light bulb—how could I not know?! It’s not hard to figure out!”

“How do you know?”

“The Mark of Scath is a dreaded sign,” whispered Wintergreen. “Those who know, those who actively fight against it, know what this sign means. Slade, what did you do?”

“I did nothing,” said Slade, holding back a hiss. His jaw clenched. “I only did what I had to. I had no choice.”

“You had to have done something,” insisted Wintergreen. “You don’t bear that mark without entering a contract or being contracted. I can only imagine what your end of the deal is, but what do you get in return? Why would you enter a contract like this?”

Slade looked away, inhaling slowly.

“Slade… there’s only one thing… You know the dead can’t be brought back.”

“I get it,” snapped Slade, clipping his voice. “I know that better than anyone.”

“No, you don’t,” whispered Wintergreen. As Slade’s fury flared inside his chest, the old man continued before Slade could interject with a scathing retort. “Listen, whatever you were promised, he’s not bound by it. Trust me. Whatever he promised, he won’t keep his end of the bargain. You were deceived.”

“How would you know anything?” demanded Slade. Pain rose inside his chest. He already knew he had made a terrible choice. He didn’t need this old man to tell him again. A lilting, trilling thought entered his mind, but he batted it away irritably. “Why is it that you seem to know things that I don’t? You have this endless wisdom, but nothing to back it up. I never get it. What are you, anyway? Some all knowing seer? It’s getting annoying, old man.”

Hurt entered the old man’s features. Slade refused to feel bad. Then, Wintergreen’s eyes disconnected with his gaze. They flickered to the side, as if glancing at something there. It was brief, however, and the old man’s eyes reconnected its contact. Wintergreen pursed his lips, the light softening in his eyes.

“Slade, there was an old society that used to worship Trigon,” said Wintergreen, looking grim. “I assume you know his name, since you made a contract with him and bear his mark. A counter society formed to stop them. I’ve been a member for years. It’s why I know the mark. Though, it’s been decades since the society has been active. The fear of a rise of Trigon was really high during the height of the Cold War. In fact, I believe there was an old meeting ground here in this city.”

Slade stared at Wintergreen, his jaw slowly dropping. His lip curled. “You know, this information would’ve been nice a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, in the future, I’ll be sure to warn you from making contracts with demons,” snapped Wintergreen. “Honestly, Slade! I thought that would’ve been logical!”

“I told you,” hissed Slade. “I had no choice. My only options were terrible and horrific. Forgive me for choosing the terrible one, but the horrific choice was simply not an option!”

Silence.

It hurt. The silence was downright painful. Slade drew in a deep breath. He was in no mood for crap. He didn’t need Dick telling him to accept his healing for the ‘miracle’ it was. No, there had to be a logical explanation for it. Something healed that boy and Slade had a foreboding feeling he knew who had done so: no doubt, the very creature who had caused the problem in the first place.

He wasn’t in the mood. He had a terrible deed to accomplish. When he would be called, he didn’t know. No matter how much Wintergreen told him otherwise, told him to believe – a song came to mind – Slade knew there was no stopping the demon. It wasn’t a demon. No, it was the demon. In all his life, he never would’ve imagined striking a deal with the devil himself. Wintergreen was right. He’d done something stupid, but there was no changing it now – nor, even with the chance, would he change his choice.

All he knew was when it did happen, it would devastate Dick – possibly even ruin their relationship permanently. Especially if Dick was around during the event and there was little possibility otherwise.

Nonetheless, that outcome was better than the other option. Either way, Trigon would rise. Slade knew it. There was no stopping it. How this came about, Slade couldn’t understand it. The enemy had appeared out of nowhere, yet his mark had months of planning. Time was suddenly ticking away quickly.

If the mark on his forehead was becoming more visible, it meant only one thing: it was soon.

The old man did it again. His gaze glanced to the side next to Slade, but this time it lingered. A flash of desperation crossed his face, disappearing just as quickly. Slade glanced to the side as well, but there was nothing there. There was a light sigh, before Slade looked back at the old man.

“Come with me,” said Wintergreen, motioning towards himself. Slade followed after the old man, as he walked down the hallway. He sincerely hoped that Dick hadn’t heard anything that had been said. He entered the old man’s room, closing it behind them. Slade waited, sighing slightly. He watched Wintergreen rummage through his desk drawer, before pulling out a small box.

Then, Wintergreen came to Slade, opened the box, and lifted a ring into their eye line.

“What’s that?” asked Slade. The old man took Slade by the hand and pressed the ring there.

“Keep it. Wear it,” said Wintergreen. “It’s a ring of Azar. It’s a rare artifact, so don’t lose it. It has power against Trigon’s influence.”

“You’ve actually had something like this?” asked Slade, studying the ring. Ancient writing, of a language he didn’t recognize, adorned the gold plating. “Azar?”

“Just keep it with you. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

A lump formed inside Slade’s throat. “If it protects, it’s better if it stays with you.”

“No, I don’t need it. You’re the foolhardy one who contracted with a lying devil. If you want to make it through this alive – yes, alive – then, I suggest you keep that with you at all times. I might be a member, but I have no power. You do, though.”

Slade sighed, but his hand curled around the ring. “Thank you.”

“I suggest you wait a few minutes for your forehead to stop glowing like a beacon,” said Wintergreen, a sardonic smirk lifting his wrinkled mouth. “ I’m pretty sure that’ll cause some awkward questions.”

Slade chuckled as the old man walked toward the door. “What, no more scolding on your part?” he asked, his lip curling into a smirk. Wintergreen turned back and gave Slade a soft smile.

“Just keep that ring with you and there will be no need for any more scolding.”

Wintergreen left the bedroom, leaving a puzzled Slade behind. He frowned, studying the ring for a moment. He heard the old man greet Joey and Rose. As Slade heard their voices mingling together, his stomach churned darkly. He slipped the ring into his pocket, before visiting the bathroom. In the mirror, he watched the glowing rune on his forehead, gritting his teeth, until the rune slowly faded away, invisible once again.

A warning sign, one that brought fire in his veins.

Slade walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He made a beeline to the coffee. As he prepared his mug, he glanced back at the two at the kitchen table.

“Good morning, Joey, Rose.”

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning, Dad.”

“So, do you two have any plans for the day?”

“Rose and I will be out today,” said Joey, quickly downing a glass of juice. “I’m going to find a part time job, while Rose is checking out her school.” He glanced over at her. “Have you decided which college you want to go to yet?”

Rose shrugged. “It’s either Berkeley or Caltech. Haven’t figured out which one yet.” She smirked. “I’ve received offers from both, though.”

Slade looked back at Rose, his mouth dropping.

“You’ve had offers from them?”

“Yup.”

“Impressive.”

Rose beamed.

Before anything more could be said, there was the unmistakable sound of Dick emerging from his bedroom. The boy barreled into the kitchen, before latching himself onto Slade like a primate.

“Dad, Dad, can my friends and I go out today?” said Dick, nearly squeezing the air right out of Slade’s chest. “Please? You said you’d think about it? Did you?”

“Well, good morning to you, too,” said Rose huffily. “I’m fine, thank you. You? Oh, is that right?”

Joey chuckled.

“Good grief, child, breathe. It’s still morning. Eat your breakfast.”

“Dad, can we go out, please?” asked Dick, focusing only on Slade, his eyes wide. His lower lip bunched upward, his eyelashes blinking twice. The ‘puppy eyes’ were in full effect. Slade’s eyebrow twitched. He smirked, glad he’d already made his decision beforehand. He patted the child on the back.

“You may—”

Dick whooped.

“Now listen, there are some ground rules—”

The boy whooped again, completely ignoring Slade.

“And you all have a curfew—”

“Guys!” cried Dick, bolting to the basement door, wrenching it open, before clambering downward. “Guys, wake up, we’re going out today!”

Slade grabbed his mug of coffee and lifted it to his mouth, his lips quirking upward in a gentle smile.

ooOOOOOoo

June 20th, 2009. Saturday,  9:26 pm.

The sliver of the crescent moon shone bright, the summer evening air pleasantly cool, the fireflies dancing with their glowing lights; even Raven seemed to be in a good mood. Dick could’ve sworn he’d seen her smiling, but it could’ve been a trick of the lamppost light.

It had truly been a delightful day. After being cooped up for so long, Dick had relished in being outside. There hadn’t been any trouble – though, he was pretty sure Slade had something to do with that. How the man kept the criminal population from running rampant in the Teen Titans’ absence was one of those things Dick decided not to think about. Even retired, Slade had the right kind of leverage on the city.

But, Dick had to admit, it had its perks. Not having to jump into action right away was nice. It left time to be with his friends. Unfortunately, it required him to be under a mask, since the others were recognizable, but he forwent the uniform and stuck with civilian clothes – though, he had his uniform on underneath.

It was normal, just a normal outing with friends. For once, Dick could truly imagine being a teenager. He had a family waiting at home. He even had a curfew, ten thirty, one his friends were required to maintain as well – oh, yeah, Cyborg loved that.

But still, Dick was happy.

The day had been fun. Slade had given them pocket money, something that shocked the boys – the girls had been politely grateful. Thus, a plethora of junk food had been purchased and consumed throughout the entire outing. Two movies had been seen in the early afternoon; an arcade had been visited for an extended amount of time; a bookshop had been demanded upon by Raven after that; and, finally, Starfire dragged them all to the mall for window shopping and ice cream – cream of ice, in the case of Starfire.

All in all, it’d been the best day Dick had had with his friends in a long time.

It was now late, after having way too much pizza, and they were on their way back home. The chatter was loud, the laughter happy, as they all walked together. Beast Boy was insisting for a rematch against Cyborg after having been beaten in the video game of his choice at the arcade; all the while, Dick snickered through it. Starfire was chatting animatedly about the hair accessories she had picked up at the mall, trying to learn what each were for from Raven, who either didn’t know or didn’t care either way.

“Come on, one more rematch and I’ll beat you!” cried Beast Boy indignantly.

“Still doesn’t change the counter,” said Cyborg, grinning. “It’ll just go from twenty to zero, to twenty-one to one.”

“Hey!”

Dick chuckled. The moonlight wavered.

Suddenly, Raven gasped. She pitched forward, just as Beast Boy stopped her from completely falling to the ground. Together, they fell to their knees. Starfire and Cyborg gathered around, while Dick dropped to Raven’s side. She breathed heavily, as if something constricted her lungs.

“Raven!” cried Beast Boy. “What’s wrong, are you all right?”

A weak, yet familiar laugh echoed inside Dick’s mind.  His blood chilled. That voice had been quiet for so long. Why was he hearing it now?

‘It’s time. The solstice is upon us.’

Raven screamed. Her back arched; her head threw back; her mouth dropped open. Another scream penetrated the air. Slowly, glowing runes began to etch on her skin, beginning with the backs of her hands. The screams intensified. Beast Boy held onto Raven, looking desperately helpless as the girl writhed in pain.

The rune were being carved into her skin.

“What’s happening?” cried Beast Boy, fearfully glancing up at Dick. The girl grew hoarse in her screams as the runes made their way upward, carving their mark on her arms. Beast Boy winced as his skin make contact with the runes. As they etched upward, Raven’s cloak became charred, slowly turning to charcoal dust.

To their horror, the runes etched into Raven’s back and stomach, burning away part of the fabric, until, finally, they reached her forehead; a simmering, red mark of an S symbol, one with accents in the centers of the curves of the shape, blazon there.

The screams stopped. Raven collapsed backward, with Beast Boy still clutching onto her. She panted, tears streaming down her face. As they all stayed knelt at her side, there was a slow, yet sharp inhale from Starfire. She leaned forward, gazing directly onto the rune mark on Raven’s forehead.

“I know this mark,” breathed Starfire, shock in her eyes.

‘Oh, your girlfriend might actually be smart.’

“What is it?” asked Dick, ignoring the voice in his head. Starfire looked at it, the fear growing in her features.

“It is a sign, a sign of something terrible,” whispered Starfire. She shivered. “My people are fearless. We are warriors, even from the day of our birth. We do not fear battle, nor the possibilities which happen when war is waged. We mourn our loved ones, but we do not fear death.”

She motioned to the rune.

“This, however, we fear. This is an omen of more than death. It is a sign of annihilation of life, the mark of the end. My people are taught from a young age about the enemy of X’hal. It is the Mark of Scath, the sign of Trigon’s coming.”

‘Heeeh, Tamaraneans know their stuff. I supposed I can be impressed.’

Dick’s mind raced. He first thought about the encounter with Terra, all his nightmares – there had to be a connection. His nightmares had to hold the answer. This Trigon jerk, he must be the one targeting Raven and Dick. But why? What was going on, anyway? Were his nightmares a premonition? Was that truly the future? Just who was this person – or creature – that he could be so frightening to an entire warfaring culture?

“Then…” began Dick, looking over Raven. Why was she the one with the mark? Hadn’t Trigon been targeting Dick all this time? Why was he also going after Raven? It didn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t it be him with all those runes etched in his skin? Better he than Raven, after all.

‘Oh, only special ones can bear the mark of his coming.’

“There is something else,” whispered Starfire. She looked at Raven, almost pity rising in her gaze. “Oh, Raven, why did you not tell us? Are we not your friends?”

Tears fell down Raven’s face. Her body wracked with soft sobs.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” cried Raven, her voice in a low whisper. “I thought it had been prevented. The Marking was supposed to happen on my birthday, but it didn’t. I thought it was all over. I thought…”

“Hey, just who is this Trigon, anyway?” demanded Beast Boy. “We can take him, can’t we?”

“Trigon is the master of death,” said Starfire. “He has the ability to rip anyone’s soul from this world, though he needs power to do so. He glories in the pain of the living. He glories in bringing destruction to any world that would oppose him. All worlds, just in the mere action of existing, oppose him, because they have what he does not. Thus…”

Starfire trailed off, biting her lower lip.

Cyborg frowned. “Hold up, are you saying he’s like…” He inhaled sharply. “Are you saying this guy’s like a devil, demon or something?”

“Not a devil,” whispered Raven. “The devil.”

Cyborg’s eyebrow popped upward. “Oh, no.”

“Huh? What?” Beast Boy looked between them. “Wait, are you saying…”

“What do you mean by, ‘they have what he does not’?” asked Dick.

“Trigon has power over death,” said Starfire. “This is what I have been taught as a child. But without a physical embodiment to contain himself, he has little power among life – unless there is something fueling him. It is said he feeds on despair and fear. He can, in essence, plant within anyone a servant to drain sustenance for himself. I have actually seen this many times on my planet, but we are strong. Trigon had little footing among my people. The greater the fear and despair, the more powerful he becomes. With the right amount of power, he could pass through a portal into our world and in the process, create a physical body for himself.”

Starfire breathed out, shuddering slightly.

“If he accomplishes this, every living creature on every planet within every universe will be threatened – perhaps even destroyed forever.”

Silence reigned at this. Dick made a mental note to study more on Starfire’s culture and other planets. They had been completely unprepared for this kind of attack. How many other enemies were there in the universe? If what Starfire said was true, then that meant Trigon had planted that doppelganger inside Dick. All this time… he’d been feeding the monster. Dick shivered at the thought.

“Then… Then, we just have to make sure Trigon doesn’t find a portal,” said Cyborg. “Or maybe we can find it and destroy it, or something.”

Starfire inhaled sharply, snapping her head to look at Cyborg. There was a hoarse chuckle from Raven.

“Yes, that would be for the best,” whispered Raven. Power emanated from her voice. “Do it, then. Destroy the portal.”

“No!” cried Starfire.

“What’s going on?” demanded Beast Boy, his young voice rising in hysteria. “I feel like I’m missing the prequel here!”

“No, Raven, there must be another way!”

“I should’ve allowed it sooner. What’s one life to countless others? I just… was selfish…”

Dick glanced between Starfire and Raven. Starfire seemed to know where the portal was, yet didn’t want to destroy it. His mind raced with every possibility, his thoughts coming to a horrifying conclusion. There had been a reason for targeting more than just himself, hadn’t there been? Dick wasn’t an end goal. He was just the food, so to speak.

It was so simple.

It broke his heart.

“Someone explain something, please!” cried Beast Boy.

There was a soft exhale of breath.

“Trigon, he’s… He’s my father. He sired me for one reason. I’m the portal.”

“Whoa, wait, what?!”

ooOOOOOoo

June 20th, 2009. Saturday,  9:40 pm.

When the runes inscribed on his body glowed brightly, Slade wasn’t all that surprised. Though he hadn’t been expecting it tonight, he had figured it would be soon. Was he resigned and fearful of what was to come, very much so – but not surprised at all.

Wintergreen, on the other hand, got the shock of his life.

“Good heaven above!” cried Wintergreen, his aged eyes widening. The old man stared at him. “What…”

“It’s time,” said Slade, in a hollow voice. He closed his eye briefly. The runes glowed beneath Slade’s white collar shirt, the orange glow ominous in its meaning. He knew they followed the one that was blazon across his forehead. Without knowing the language, the meaning still announced Trigon’s approaching arrival and it was impressed upon Slade. Now, he knew exactly when it was to happen, down to the very minute.

Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t let Dick out today.

Slade stood up.

Wintergreen stood as well, those eyes filled with fear, yet there was also a strength within them.

“I have to go,” said Slade, his voice void of all emotion. The other runes slowly faded, leaving the heat of the one on his forehead.

“Yes,” whispered Wintergreen, breathless. He took a deep breath. “I will wait for your safe return home, then.”

A lump immediately built up inside Slade’s throat. He swallowed, but his voice betrayed him. “Will,” he whispered hoarsely. “There won’t be anything or… or anyone to return home to. You know that.”

Then, Slade found himself perplexed beyond measure. The fear inside Wintergreen’s eyes vanished. What was left there was only peace, something so unimaginable to Slade. How could…

The old man’s lip quirked upward.

“Today’s a great day to start working on that faith.”

The air stole out of Slade’s chest.

He didn’t answer. The old man’s going senile, Slade told himself. But the moment those words crossed through his thoughts, he figured the old man was more sane than he was.

It took less than ten minutes to suit up. With every passing moment, he could feel the forced urgency rise inside. Slade pushed away all thoughts about the upcoming confrontation. A certain of pair of crystal blue eyes was going to penetrate his heart. Whispers filled his ears, commands of the one he had bound himself to – all the while, he gritted his teeth furiously. He strode down the hallway, mask in hand, until he reached the kitchen once again.

Slade looked at Wintergreen. He didn’t know what to say. Nothing could forgive his sin. He was, once again, awed by the loyalty in this old man. Wintergreen knew, yet he still stood there, looking calm as ever – as if Slade was only going out for a stroll in the park.

If only…

“Are you wearing the ring?” asked Wintergreen.

Slade hesitated. His hand twitched slightly. “It’d be better to leave it with you, Will.”

“Slade Wilson,” started Wintergreen, raising an eyebrow. He put his hands onto his hips. “If you don’t wear that ring, I’ll put this blasted haunt into lockdown, under my code. I’d be delighted to see you crack that. Wear it, for me, for Richard. It will protect you.”

Slade cracked a smirk. “Ornery old man.”

“Stubborn whippersnapper.”

Slade snorted, but sobered instantly after. He gazed at the old man, the best friend, the man who had been inseparable from his side. He knew what was going to happen. Wintergreen knew what was going to happen. The old man was stronger than him, that much Slade knew without a doubt.

Suddenly, Slade pulled Wintergreen into a hug. The old man gently patted him on the back, before Slade quickly drew away. He turned to the door, lifting his hand and attaching his mask to his face. His breathing dimmed; his vision narrowed.

An aged, wise voice rose up, causing Slade to pause with his hand on the handle of the kitchen door.

“Slade, I know you have little hope, but no matter what you think, there are more than evil forces in this world, so much more. Dark cannot exist without Light. Yes, sometimes, the dark seems so powerful, it feels as if it will consume us. But there is something you must remember: where there is light, darkness is always chased away. Darkness can never overwhelm – even the tiniest of light holds more power than all the darkness in the world.”

Slade took a deep breath, those words resounding inside his mind, overpowering the dark whispers. Nothing more was said. He turned the handle of the kitchen door and strode out; for once in his life, he wished with all his heart to believe the old man’s words.

If only they could be true…

I need them to be true.

Somehow, Slade’s steps felt a little lighter, as a gentle, familiar trilling lilt entered the air around him.

ooOOOOOoo

June 20th, 2009. Saturday,  10:02 pm.

“Beast Boy, get a grip!” snapped Dick, as he held onto Raven. Beast Boy was currently bouncing back and forth. “You give ‘running around like a chicken without its head’ new meaning!”

“She’s glowing like a hundred fireflies, how am I supposed to be calm here?!” cried Beast Boy, wildly pointing at Raven. She rolled her eyes, but bit her lower lip, a fearful light in her face.

Dick was more concerned about Raven’s parentage than the glowing tattoos, but he didn’t say as much.

“Just calm down,” said Dick. “It’s not helping otherwise, BB.”

“But—”

Dick dutifully ignored the excitable changeling and directed the conversation to a more important issue. “And we are not destroying anything.” He gave Raven a pointed look. Her lips thinned. “Is this true?” he asked. “You’re a portal and Trigon’s coming?”

Raven nodded.

Dick let out a huff of air. “And this whole time, I’ve been on the freak’s dinner plate. Lovely.”

There was a furious scream of rage inside Dick’s mind. The voice ranted and raved at him, furiously spitting curses at him for defiling ‘his master’. But Dick gritted his teeth. No freaking way he was going to let that doppelganger get the best of him. If Trigon fed on despair and fear, Dick wasn’t about to let any of those emotions flow through him. No. No more.

“You?” whispered Raven, her eyes widening.

“Yeah, I’ve been a target all this time,” said Dick. “I’ve been having nightmares just about every night for months now. But not since I’ve been ill lately, though. Not sure why. Geez, who knew a little more communication would’ve made all the difference in the world…”

He was not about to forget that one again now.

Raven looked stricken. “He’s been hurting…”

With a sigh, Dick helped Raven to her feet. She swayed briefly, but the others all helped steady her. She blushed, embarrassed by their attentiveness.

“Look, whoever this enemy is, he’s no match for the Teen Titans, all right?” said Dick, giving Raven a confident smile. “Portal or not, we’re not letting him through.”

“But—”

Dick’s smile softened and he took Raven by the hand. His fingers barely brushed against the glowing rune on her hand. He ignored the pain that burned into his skin. “You don’t need to worry, Rae. We’ll protect you. Nothing bad is going to happen, all right?”

There was a tentative smile from Raven. Her hand tightened in his hold. Beast Boy took her other hand, blushing slightly, but smiling all the same at her. Starfire nodded, placing steadying hands onto Raven’s shoulders. The three surrounded her in their protectiveness.

Then, suddenly, as they stepped forward, Dick bumped into Cyborg’s broad, hard back. He winced, pulling back and rubbing his nose. He glanced up at the older teen to see a mixture of horror and unsuppressed fury across his face. Dick followed the line of sight that Cyborg was gazing on.

Something wasn’t right.

Standing on the ledge of a nearby building was an unmistakable form. It was one that Dick had only seen. The others knew the tamer side to this man, one which bore minimum armor, in black and grey colors. However, that man was but a shadow of his true identity.

All arrayed in powerful armor, stood, not Slade, but Deathstroke. A blade hung at his back, along with two large guns. Two toned with orange and black on his chest, while dark grey scales covered his lower chest to his waist. Thin, pliable metal plating lay on the upper sections of his arms, elbows, legs and knees; while steel tipped metal boots were worn at the feet.

Dick had seen this before. He knew who this was. The armor spoke volumes of intent, one of precision and power.

What Dick hadn’t imagined was seeing it again like this.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Dad,” whispered Dick, his eyes widening, his breath catching in his throat. Shining bright, the color of tainted firefly light, was the same rune that Raven had, in the same location, the forehead, yet his face was hidden behind the mask. An icy chill slithered down Dick’s back. Why? The man wouldn’t look at him, his gaze only on the girl whose hand Dick held. Even through the distance, there was no mistaking that single steel grey blue eye.

Its light writhed.

“I have a message for Raven.”

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