The Messenger

Dislaimer: I own NOTHING. Not the Titans, not Slade.

Looks at Slade

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Bangs head on wall

She still hated him. It was all over, she had triumphed, and he still haunted her soul down to the very essence of her being. Her father the daemon's prescence was obliterated from her mind, but she didn't hate him. One cannot hate evil itself.

The messenger. He was the man she could envision burning forever in a lake of fire. But perhaps that was too good for him. He had used her, exposed her secret to her friends, burned half of her city, and and made her endure searing pain from the red runes he placed over her entire body with his own two hands the first moonlit night and awakened on the last.

Like the archangel Gabriel in the human Bible, he delivered a message. But this message was definitely not a good one. It was her message. The world's message.

When the world ends, it will be all your fault. You. It is you, truly.

She didn't know who he was, no one did. Not even when he was alive. She didn't want to know. Even in death, he wore that mask, that black and silver armor that covered him from head to toe. No one knew. But she thought of him. She thought of him then, she thought of him know. She didn't know him before he died. He didn't care about her. She passed under his radar. But when he got his orders, suddenly she became the centre of his attention. And he became hers.

Physically, she was strong. She thought herself strong inside her mind, but this man made her feel as brittle as glass. Over the space of about a month, their encounters ate through her soul like black acid.

The first night. When it all began. He targeted her, and when she stopped time, he caught up to her. He was carrying the red portal runes, and these he placed over her body himself. Then he showed her the future, held her in his arms, and talked of her chiling destiny.

Look at it. Drink it in. Behold the world you are destined to create.

He let her fall. He let her fall off a tower, knowing that her friend, the leader of their group, would catch her. And he did. Her other friends, they were shocked. They couldn't comprehend it. She had to be carried back to their home, and her clothes were practically torn off. That first night, he ripped her dignity to shreds.

She hid it well. But her next encounter happened at the library. Her friends, concerned for her, went there, seeking answers. And she went there too. But she ran, ran after hearing the prophecy. But she came back. Came back to find him torturing her friends, coming dangerously close to telling them everything.

If you don't tell them, I will.

She lost control. She threw the messenger around like he was nothing, pummeled him while her eyes glowed red and the runes flaired up. Her friends saw it all. And they demanded answers. So she told them. She might not have, if it wasn't for him. She told them her destiny, and the fate of the world. That second night, he taught her sadness.

They tried to lead normal lives. They went on with their duties, and she hid it, but in the back of her mind she always wodered when he would come back, what he would do to her, what he would say. She tried to meditate, the day before the end, though she didn't know it was at the time. Big mistake.

Hello, my little bird.

He threw her into another vision. She tried to run, but he had grabed her wrist and swung her around roughly. She struggled, but he wrapped an arm around her waist possesively, and with the other hand traced a mark down her shoulder. Laying the cold metal of his mask against her cheek, he told her arcane, unholy, demonic things, in that vision. She looked out over the future ruins of the world, and then the tears came. And with them came hate.

He saw her this way. He was the only one. He knew what she felt, watched her as she sobbed on the ground. He knew her. And she hated him for knowing.

When she weakly staggered to her feet, he did something that made her hate herself, and him, even more. He pulled her to his chest, and she clung, weeping, to him. He placed a gloved arm wordlessly around her waist as she cried herself dry. Picking her up as if she was as light as a feather, and held her in his arms. She hated him for this one act of mercy, and for seeing her tears, for being the one person in the world who truly knew her.

He allowed her to go home, that night. But not before brushing awa her tears, and reminding her, in no uncertain terms, that she was his. And in a way, she was. She was bound to him forever. That third night, he taught her hate.

The next day, she thought of him. She thought of nothing else, though she was very good at hiding it. Her friends didn't know. THey never found out, actually.

But on that day, the world ended.

Give me the girl, he said to her friends.

They refused. But she couldn't stand to see their hurt. Knocking them unconcious, she bowed to him. He asked her if he needed to restrain her. She said no, she would go with him. All the while, she was thinking of the night before, how he had shown her mercy. She knew he remembered too. In frosty silence they had walked down together to end the world. She felt like a thing, now.

She spitefully called him a weak fool, and he retaliated. Last she saw of him, he was being restrained by the very demons he once commanded.

The world did end, but she and her friends brought it back. Even now, she still marveled at this. They did it. They won. But he still haunted her thoughts, her dreams, and permeated the essence of her being. After all this time, he was still there. Both in her mind, and in the world. Looking out of the windows of Titans Tower, she thought of him. And Raven knew, Slade was still there.

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