Jump City had been saved from disaster. Robin and the newly formed Teen Titans had told the complete story to the mayor of the city, explaining to them the invasion of the Zornians, the attack of the Ravager, the danger of the stone, all of it. Their break-in at the museum had been forgiven, and all of Jump City was applauding them as heroes. Everywhere they went they were met with cheers and waves, with happy smiling faces and many admirers. Some were even singing songs about the Titans. All loved them.
All but one man.
Deep underground in his self-constructed fortress of moving metal gears, a sinister man watched a television screen, observing the actions of the Titans. And loathed them.
Middle-aged Mr. S. Wilson was a wealthy businessman of sorts, the kind of man who went on any sort of travel simply for the thrill of it. His last trip to Africa he'd gone hunting bare-handed... to give the lions a fighting chance. Nothing could touch him, he believed himself rightly to be invincible. Not just physically. Mentally as well. Most humans barely used five percent of their brains... if that much, he thought bitterly. He himself had been tested. He used eighty percent of it. Not as good as it could have been, but he would grow better in time.
Pity his son wouldn't have that time.
Grant Wilson, his seventeen year old son, had abandoned the family business, abandoned the elder Wilson, given up his birthright to strike out on his own. And he'd wound up as a lowly security guard for a museum guarding musty old relics. He'd stifled his own potential. He was as strong and as smart as Mr. S. Wilson, yet he did not bring himself to use those powers that his birth had gifted him with. And now he could not.
For Grant was dead. Slain by the Zornians during their attack of the museum, slain by the Ravager in a vain attempt to stop them.
And it was all the Titan's fault.
A more rational man would have wondered how Mr. S. Wilson had come to such a conclusion. But he was beyond rationality. Ever since the experiment that had gifted him with enhanced strength and agility, with powerful mental capabilities and inhuman durability, Mr. S. Wilson had been on the verge of madness, though he did not realize it. And now, with the death of his son, Grant, he had been pushed over the edge. But he maintained enough of his sanity to remain dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
For now he had a purpose.
A mission. To dedicate himself, his resources, his powers, to the utter destruction of the Teen Titans. To humiliate them, to crush them, to destroy them from the inside out and ruin their lives as they had ruined his sons. He would see them all suffer greatly. And then he would see them die. Perhaps along the way he would find a suitable replacement for Grant, who had been more than a son to Mr. S. Wilson, but an apprentice as well. Someone he'd hoped to teach before he passed on to whatever afterlife awaited him. Now he needed to find someone else to fill those shoes. Someone else to look up to him as a father.
"This day... Wilson dies," he intoned, reaching down onto the table before him. His form vanished in the dim lighting of his self-made fortress, obscuring his too-soon white hair, the eyepatch covering his right eye, the suit of a wealthy billionaire.
When next he came out of the shadows, all that was gone.
Replacing the business suit was a gray and black suit of armor that fit him like a second skin. Steel-gray gauntlets and boots covering his body, a belt slung across his chest, securing a retractable bo staff, his chosen weapon, to his back. And over his face, a dreadful dark mask. One half black, the other half a dull, dark orange. And on that side, a single baleful eye peered out at the screen, watching yet another tv news report about the Titans.
He sank down into his throne, one hand resting on his masked chin, watching the report. Listening, watching, learning. Plotting. Soon he would strike. Soon he would make himself known to his enemies. Soon they would know his name and fear it. Curse it. And wail against it.
He was Slade.
Markovia was a small country, high up in the mountains of southeastern Europe. Up until a few years ago, it didn't even appear on most maps, being too small and generally being too isolated from the world for anyone to really care about it. However, not it was considerably different.
Now it didn't show up on any maps.
Because Markovia... no longer existed.
On the border of what had formerly been Markovia, a young girl could be found, running. Always running. She didn't care which way she was going, she didn't care where she'd end up. All she wanted to do was get away.
Tears blinded her as she ran, and she stumbled over some loose rocks, slamming down hard onto the ground. She lay there for a long while and cried, tears obscuring her baby-blue eyes. Her long blonde hair was dirty and matted from many nights of sleeping on the ground or in damp caves. Her white t-shirt and shorts were covered in dust from her long self-enforced exile from her former homeland.
I hadn't mean to, she kept thinking to herself. I didn't want to. I just... couldn't control it.
Tara Markov had never been a happy girl. Not really. An illegitimate daughter, her father had made it abundantly clear he'd never cared for her. Her mother she'd never known, she'd vanished shortly after she was born. All she had of her was the single blue butterfly clip that she always wore in her hair. She'd led an unhappy life, doing as her father told her, never resisting, never arguing, just doing as she was told.
Thus, it had been a surprise to both of them when, one day, she'd finally had enough and stood up to him. Beyond that, yelled at him, told him exactly what she thought of him. However, her anger had triggered something that day. A gift... and a curse... hidden deep within her. At first she'd been surprised by the sudden earthquakes that had shook her home. But she soon realized -she- was the one who'd caused them. And, she realized to her horror, she couldn't control them. Nor the rockslides, the avalanches, the countless disasters that had overtaken the entire tiny country of Markovia and destroyed all its people. The rocks sheltered her, however, and she emerged from the safety of a rock cocoon later. That's when she'd started to run.
For in a sense, Tara Markov had died along with Markovia.
And Terra had been born in her place. Terra was a wanderer, an earth-shaker and a reluctant hero, who caused more damage than good on occasion, wherever she went. The Earth was her home now, her only friend, though as she lay down each night in a new cave, exhausted from the day of running, she curled up and shivered, wishing silently for more. For real, true friends. For control over her cursed powers. Maybe for someone to actually... care about her.
But always the next day when she awoke, her dreams were gone, and she was left with stone cold reality.
Author's Notes:
You all know what song is being sung about the Titans. It's by Puffy AmiYumi! Slade Wilson's son, Grant Wilson, was the Ravager in the comics, a Slade-esque villain who attacked the Titans to try and fulfill a contract he had with the HIVE. When he perished, Slade took over for him as Deathstroke the Terminator, trying to fulfill the same contract. Obviously the animated version needed a little fine-tweaking to make him extra-creepy and just a little nuts. Tara Markov was Terra's real name, she was the illegitimate daughter of the King of Markovia, then came to the states and met Deathstroke. Obviously with her new animated origin being one of destruction, I decided what the heck and wiped out her whole homeland. Oh, and of course gave some significance to the little hair clip seen throughout 'Terra.' Next time: There is no next time, this is it. Onwards to my next story! Review!
Shadowsage2: Yeah I know, but I've seen smaller people. Besides we know he grows up and fills out later in life at least, when he becomes Nightwing. Glad you've enjoyed the little tidbits of info and such I've been giving out in my author's notes, it makes me feel so much better since some people don't like 'em.
ViciousAssassin: Well I wondered that myself too, figured either the Titans had a public sponsor, or yeah the Robin theory, and I found out that Cyborg's father built it and worked it into my story. Well I figured the Titans had met both Cinderblock and Plasmus prior to 'Divide and Conquer' since they identified them by name, despite both behemoths not speaking. .
Tigress419: Well yeah I figured I would enjoy reuniting some broken up family, and since BB's are supposed to be dead, I figured Cyborg and his dad would be nice. As for their name, I honestly don't know where they came up with it, but whenever I hear it, it reminds me of that movie.
Dragonblond: You're absolutely right and I think someone else told me that too, but I'm stupid and I can't tell the difference and I keep forgetting. How on earth did you see the bug spray coming? Even I didn't see that one coming! (I let the characters write themselves, kinda-sorta. I have no control over them).
Anwen: Need characters? Why on earth would I need characters, I work with the creations of the show. And believe me there is nothing more than a Titan story I hate with OC's. They make me shudder oh so mightily.
Todd Fan: Don't you just though? Raven's just oh-so-kewl. Hooray! -slips Livewire a twenty-.
Ash's Scizor: Well based on how the Titan's treat/act around Raven I figured they'd have to have some reason to be so easily freaked out. Particularly Cyborg, since he seemed so very terrified of Raven's room in 'Nevermore.'
Spazzfire: Yup. Now if only I could explain the secret origins of Brother Blood I'd be all set. And don't worry, you and I still have superpowers. We can write amazing fanfiction, ne? Well, you at least, me I'm not so sure about.