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Mirror, Mirror	By : Millym Category: DC Verse Cartoons - Teen Titans > Het Views: 1836 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mirror, Mirror
- 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor do I make any money from this fictional writing.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit… not my fault. Not my friggin’ fault.”
She paced back and forth in her tiny apartment. What she called, an apartment, anyway. To be more accurate, one could call it ‘A wreck’. To be completely accurate, one could call it ‘An abandoned bomb shelter. That smells like gasoline and skunks.’ But, most important to Mirana, she could call it ‘Home’. It had none of the comforts of home, except if you count all the broken electronics, but it did have two important things. 1. Discreetness. No one’s checking bomb shelters for criminals. 2. It had a lot of empty space that she could fill up with the spoils from her victories.
Victories that hadn’t happened in a while.
“And now…psht, if it wasn’t for the fact that no villains know my name…which is due to covertness, not due to being unknown period… I’m just very stealthy, that’s all…they’d be laughing at me! They’d be ‘Oh, Mirana, I can’t believe you couldn’t rob those casinos in Gotham City!’ And I’d be ‘Well, not everyone is catwoman! Not that I need to be! It’s just circumstance, that’s all!’”
She paused, sitting down on a milk crate made tolerable by a soft coat she found at the local goodwill. She wasn’t particularly proud that she’s the only villain who wears a costume and has to thrift, but there were bonuses… how many villains can claim to get a 10 percent discount? And found a legit fake fur mink coat for 20 dollars?
“Not my fault. Circumstance.”
She buried her head into her hands. No money, no respect, nobody hiring, no good jobs to hit. She was planning on first getting a half-decent bank robbery so she could actually turn this bomb shelter into something nice. Spray out that godawful smell, put in some carpeting, and some more mirrors. Travelling through mirrors that were broken into odd shapes made for the most uncomfortable of travel.
“Nngngh…AND I GOTTA CLEAN MY COSTUME! ARGH!”
She took another look around her stale environment. A rack of clothing, a small, working (God bless it) refrigerator, a few mirrors, and books from back home. And her costume, hung carefully, separate from everything else. The one thing she had that looked so good…not just on her, but just good. It was comfortable, to say the least. Not the ball twisting spandex everyone else wore. The colors, a triple theme of yellow, black, and aqua mixed into each other, and worked with her pale complexion. Comfy, casual villain clothing – the Kevlar underneath was her insurance policy.
“Fuck it. No fun in sitting around bitching.”
The costume was off the rack, she was up and running - and then diving – into her mirror.

“These…Titans.”
Slade breathed in, his stomach falling back, then expanding out, with a long, low sigh. He was unaccustomed to looking at… financial reports. Or reports at all. He was most used to getting his reports from a panicked man somewhere in the city getting his ass handed to him by a boy naming himself after a harmless bird, of all things.
“I’ve spent how much on them? Thousands upon thousands?”
He turned off the screens showing him bars, colored in red, pie graphs, and the like. It was all rather embarrassing for an A-list villain to even be considering.
“Well, I suppose even I can’t run without funds… I’m not a cult, so all those minions don’t come free…neither does the power…or any amount of the things I get built.”
He sighed again, and rubbed the side of his head through his helmet, before pulling it away at how ridiculous it looked.
“This is a problem. And I’ve got too many others that need my attention….Computer.”
He stopped in the center of the room, a few yards in front of his throne. He, like always, had an idea. A brilliant idea. Any idea less than brilliant would be a shame to one such as him.
“Give me…some profiles on metahumans I could hire.”
A rather large amount fled through his screen. Most of them H.I.V.E agents, but they hadn’t earned their reputation, as far as he was concerned. Some of them were working their way up, and could prove to be a good hire…but expensive and unruly.
Others advertised themselves with all the subtlety of a spam message telling him how Brazillian drugs could enhance his physique. They were passed over. How could one trust a bank robber who couldn’t even spell their own persona right?
He was looking for a specific personality profile…talented, but untrained. That would make them cheap, or even free. A mind that he could work with…but not completely control. Some initiative would be needed, or he’d have another Terra on his hands. No, he needed someone good, but not too good. Raw potential.
A few candidates teased his eye. He silently thought about hiring them, and training them every now and then. For now, he didn’t need a full on apprentice – just someone who could bring in enough money to push him back into the green.
He stopped dead at one of the final candidates. Practically fell off the radar – a series of botched jobs, all theft in nature. Besides which, she had a history with him that could work quite to his advantage.
The rest of the screens went dead. Only the one of the young woman stayed on, humming that soft electric noise, as he stared on, respectfully putting his hands behind his back.
“Mirana…I’ll start with you.”

“Y’know, not being known as a villain actually kinda kicks ass.”
Mirana squatted on the top of a Seven-Eleven, located in Tokyo, Japan. She grinded her incisors into some beef jerky, leaving a bowl of hot instant ramen to her side as extra. She slid the meat down he gullet, exhaling in delight, and started to glug a 2-liter of soda – damned if she knew what kind it was.
All in all, it was the best dinner she had in the last month.
“I mean, I’ve seen no less than four…FOUR! Japanese super heroes and none of them have bugged me. They all just assume I’m a super hero on break, and they leave me alone.”
She lifted the tip of the bottle to her cracked lips again, letting the fizzy citrus drink scour her throat of the spicy beef, and make way for the bowl of noodles. She gurgled it, doubling it as mouthwash. Citrus breath may not have been as good as minty breath, but it sure beat bomb shelter breath.
“Heh. Other teleporters can only manage miles. I can skip across the planet.”
She dug into the noodles, jumping off the roof, carrying it with her back to the mirror in the back lot, walking through, delighted.
She came out on the other end full of food, and depressed.
“Shit. Now I’m BROKE! Knew I shouldn’t have wasted all my money on food..”
She stepped back into her bomb shelter, the long falldown from a quick elation of planet hopping. She was in New York, London, Tokyo… And she had no money. She was happy, and now she had no money.
She sat back down on the fur covered milk crate
“Least my seat is warm…”
Mirana contemplated calling a few of her gal-pals back from Gotham. She could give her a place to stay – a few extra bucks. And it wasn’t like they were walking the thin narrow line, so they wouldn’t mind her bringing in a few bucks of her own. But Mirana pushed it to the back of her mind, the same place that it came from.
“No. Nonono. Not going back to Gotham. Not relying on supports. I went out to do things for myself…or work for someone else. Not have someone else prop me up. That’s final.”
“Well. At least you’ve still got that fighter’s pride.”
Her right eyebrow lifted up from under the spirit gum that kept her mask plastered to her face – rather uncomfortably. She felt the voice ripple through her, making a small bead of sweat appear on the small of her back, blazing a trail all the way down her leg, to her ankle.
“Slade?”
“Hello, Mirana. Long time, no see.”
She frantically started pawing at her own costume, rampantly unzipping and pulling her pants off, and sliding out of the top. She breathed hard, biting into her lip, trying to find something to focus on other than the man who was talking to her.
“Guessing from the sound of things…you haven’t figured out that I’m not speaking to you with a bug. Powerful satellite transmissions, Mirana. Relax.”
She hissed to herself, mumbling a string of obscenities while she covered up her plain cotton black panties and bra with her costume again, readjusting her mask. Mirana furrowed her brow, trying to appear angry to an audio transmission. Mirana lifted her eye brow again, thinking that over, and subsequently relaxed her expression.
“What do you want? Here to punish me?”
“Mirana, you know how I am about vengeance…it either happens as soon as possible, or it doesn’t happen at all. Besides, it would seem…unsporting to kick you while you’re down.”
Her mouth gaped open for a short while. Then she mouthed another string of obscenities, these ones involving physical impossibilities.
“Another failed robbery in Gotham, was it?”
“Oh! Heh, yeah! Silly ol’ me! Since we’re catching up on old times, how’re things going for you? You got a new apprentice yet? Or was the last one turned into stone too?”
There was a long pause, that same electric hum filling the air. Mirana smirked with an air of hatred, bred with arrogance, resulting in bitterness. The line remained dead for a few more seconds, before Slade finally replied.
“That’ll be enough, Mirana. I’m actually not here so we can engage in mindless banter.”
“So, punishing, then?”
“Mirana, I already told you I’m not here for that.”
“Forgive me if I don’t exactly have the largest amount of trust in you.”
“And who’s the one who walked out on someone who put trust in them?”
She frowned, setting her hands back down on the milk crate, gripping the fur, almost starting to cut into it.
“Touche. So what ARE you here for?”
“I’m offering a job.”
There wasn’t a second’s delay between Slade’s offer, and Mirana’s response.
“No.”
“I expected that. What if I told you that this job isn’t about being an apprentice?”
“No.”
“…That you get a cut of the money we pull in instead of working on ‘gifts’..”
“No.”
“And that none of it involves the Teen Titans.”
A shiver ran up her back – that was something she did not expect. It was like hearing the Joker tell you he’s trying to kill someone other than Batman. She half-suspected a trap, but Mirana couldn’t imagine saying those words could come easy to slade. So many years spent, and not a single one of them dead or under his control. One would imagine his obsession would go rather overboard due to that. To hear the offer of something not involving the Titans… it tickled her brain, teasing her with endless possibilities, infinite ‘what if?’s and ‘why?’s.
“What is the job, then?”
“I’m afraid that you’ll have to put some trust back into me…and meet me personally for that.”
Her head shook in a fit of tweaked anger, running her hands through her long, slightly unkempt, brown hair, using routine to relax herself.
“Fine. Same hide out as last time?” She snorted out, a blast of hot air exhaling from her nostrils.
“The very one. I look forward to see you again.”
And the electric buzzing disappeared.
“Fuck.”
She paced around the cement, biting into her lip, her conscience screaming a variety of things at her. Her common sense was no slouch either, making up for any pauses for breath the conscience had to have.
“Fuck it, get this over with.”
The mirror rippled like water again as she stormed through, anxiousness, bitterness, hatred, a wide spectrum of emotions vied for her attention as she did so.

The mirror was already set up – she was in the heart of Slade’s tower. Things had been moved around, technology improved, but the aura was still the same. The same cold sweat Marina had last she was inside the tower returned, like an incurable allergy, running down her neck, staining her costume.
“Slade?”
Marina only heard herself, echoing in the room. She turned, and stared at the empty throne, frowning once more.
“I know you’re here…”
Her voice left, and then returned to her, then the emptiness again. Marina’s face transformed from a frown, into a baring of fangs.
“Slade, I don’t care about these fucking entrances of yours, so just get out here, and let’s talk.”
“You always knew how to kill perfectly good drama, Mirana.” Slade replied, in the same monotone voice that was his trademark. He stood still, hands behind his back again, and looked straight into her with his eye.
“Haven’t let any of your muscle go to waste, I see.”
“Yeah, I keep in shape, like any good villain. Now cut to the point. This place – and you – gives me the creeps.”
“Still thinking just for yourself too…” Slade continued, stepping forward, with a slow, deliberate pace, letting the silence grip the air, except for each little echo from his footsteps. He stopped within three feet of Marina, giving her the same stare again, the one that left everyone who opposed him nervous, their knees knocking against each other.
Marina did her best to stop the glistening sweat and weak body by looking just under his one eye, and wait for him to break the thick silence.
“Yes, the job. Like I promised, it has nothing to do with the Titans…which seems to strike a nerve with both of us.”
Marina nodded, focusing on being strong, standing still, and looking to have the same resolve that Slade walked around with such ease and grace.
“I am lacking funds.”
“So knock over a bank.”
Slade expected Marina to have the same defiance, the same pride that was the basis of her very being. It helped make her a ripe candidate – but he refused to let her use it to get in the way.
“Oh, I would – and have, Marina. But the thing is, people like me have other jobs to focus on. Assassinations, political blackmail, minion reorganization…you really don’t know the stress that comes with being a highly respected figure. All eyes are on you.”
He took a step forward, a faster pace, circling around Marina – looking for flaws, checking for strengths, seeing how her body has developed in the past 4 years. Her slender, agile frame with a good backing of muscle was still there, and more developed as well.
“So, I am having trouble juggling so many tasks, Marina. And due to my experience with you… I have trust that I could have you pull some jobs for me, bring more money into the machine. After all, even an organization under my control can’t work without money..”
“Don’t I know it..” Mirana mumbled under her breath, thinking of the dreams she has for the bomb shelter she calls home.
“That’s all you really need to know about the job, Mirana. I hire you out to rob some places – Banks, Companies, high profile places like that – you get a cut of the funds. Also, I’ll advise you on your jobs while performing my own…so we don’t have any more…”
A pause. The same one that always occurred before Slade said his favorite word.
“Failures.”
“That’s it? No emotional manipulation? Just pull some robberies while you watch over my shoulder?”
“That’s not entirely it. You know better than that.”
He stopped circling her young, nubile body, though ragged from poor living, particularly her hair. Slade stepped in from behind her, moving his hands out from behind his back, hanging them to his side, rolling his fingers in tightly.
“So what is the rest?” Mirana replied, staring forward, not wanting to turn back and look into Slade’s eye again. Previous teachings made sure she knew better than to do that.
“I still don’t entirely trust you… so I think I need to break you in.”
“You mean, train me again?”
Slade stood less than a foot behind her, his shadow casting far over her. He craned his eye down, watching her body move ever so slightly with each short breath of hers.
“If I meant training…I would have said training.”
Slade’s hands wrapped around her body, gently at first, his right hand crawling across her neck and ending at her chest, the left coming from her hip, and resting on her hard stomach. He could feel her pulse pick up, her brain sending a barrage of neurons to her nerves. His hard hands gripped her skin as best as they could through her padded costume, twisting her lovely flesh ever so slightly.
“Fuck…Fuck off...Don’t…EVER touch me…”
She squirmed, and grunted, pushing her muscles outwards, straining against Slade’s raw strength. He returned the favor by sliding his arms completely across her body, and pulling in. Her breath went short, and her blood flow tingled each nerve ending across her upper torso. With each sharp breath pushing its way out from Slade’s grip, another drop of sweat crawled down her forehead, weakening the spirit gum on her mask, until it finally dropped onto the cold metal floor. She winced, and exhaled again.
Slade considered saying something, but knew he could convey the message better with his hands – he released his tight grip, making Mirana practically gag on air, coughing, trying to relax her throat and chest back to their original position. Slade’s hands moved in again, both of them from under this time, sliding under her shirt until they reached her chest, pressing into it again briefly as a reminder. One hand remained, getting underneath her bra, while the other crawled downwards, grabbing onto the front of her pants.
“I’m not…HahnNNhh…d-doing this, Slade…” She stammered out weakly, swallowing as much air as possible, and trying to ignore the instincts that flooded back into her. Her hormones had not been given much attention at all in the past 4 years.
“I’m afraid you don’t understand, Mirana…you don’t have a choice.” His thumb and index finger gripped the zipper, and threw it downwards, with a satisfying resulting sound. He pushed his neck over her shoulder, and looking straight down at his handiwork. The lifted shirt and exposed supple breasts, the black panties he could barely see inside her sagging pants.
“Heh.” He let out, and nothing more.
Mirana, however, struggled not to moan while Slade’s right hand squeezed her body, twisting her nipples for small moments. His left hand worked it’s way down her back and onto her hips, pulling the pants down just enough to expose her plain, boring panties – that were beginning to get wet.
Neither of them said anything. Slade pushed farther into her chest, making her knees knock and breathing frantic once more. He took a finger, carefully looping it onto the strap of her panties, and forced it tightly up –
“AHNH!”
And to the side.
“OHNH!”
He pulled his hand back, and slowly shifted his own pants downwards, a quiet ruffle emanating and echoing gently through the room, as he approached the bulge within with each roll of cloth falling from his legs. He looked down at his own manhood for a moment, before pushing Mirana down, forcefully, onto the freezing metal floor.
“UNH!” She squeaked out, while Slade clambered up on top of her, breathing a little hotly into his own mask, his eye roaming over the pale flesh that called out to him – and he spoke to it by forcing the head of his cock inside of Marina’s untended to pussy.
“AH-AOWNNNHH! H-h-OWWWNNH!” She whimpered out, her eyes closing, and then opening, shaking but not crying. Marina felt a long shiver run down her back, and turned her neck to look back at the man who was holding her down, who was making her fog up the steel below her – until Slade grabbed her hair, and forced her head back down.
His hand recoiled from her breasts, and moved onto her sweat covered back, inching her shirt up to see the toned muscle presented to him. He grunted, and swung the rest of his shaft deep inside of her walls, which welcomed him in. The tightness did not close up and swallow him inside of her, instead, relaxing, and letting him pick up speed. He pulled back out , leaving just the tip in, before forcing her insides to stretch as he rammed back inside at full speed.
Slade felt his own share of sweat soak through his suit, starting to match the woman under the palm on her back. He pumped her, forcing her to become loose and submissive. Occasionally, when he pushed in far enough, he’d stop pumping, and just grind his cock in as much as possible into Mirana, making her body react instinctively with a long, primal moan, forcing her juices to soak his insatiable cock.
He dug his hand into her back, twisting the flesh until she cried out, whimpering like a wounded pup, pushing his knees onto her calves, and pinning them with the rest of Mirana’s body to the floor. Slade never slowed down, but more importantly, he never became less intense. Each successive pump had more raw power in it than the last, looking to achieve his goal as he slammed against Mirana’s sensitive walls of skin, finally forcing her to cry out once more. She had orgasmed, leaving a trail of female liquid onto Slade.
No longer needing to endure, he picked up the pace, pounding her more and more, until he too, released himself inside of her, a stream of hot seed washing her insides and filling them up.
Slade paused for a moment, then pulled out slowly, and stood up. He rolled his pants completely back up, and cast his eye on the struggling body of Marina. She had difficulty pushing her arms up, and had to put more even more effort to turn her body back to the ground.
“Go get a pill, if you don’t already have one.”
Mirana simply grunted in acknowledgement.
“You start tomorrow. Have a good night, Mirana.”
Slade walked out, and a door opened up from the shadows, quietly closing with a whisp of air, leaving Marina to herself.
She pulled her costume back into the right places, and breathed longly, over and over again. Finally, she closed her eyes, and laid against the floor, that now seemed so warm.
Tomorrow would bring her a much different world than an empty bomb shelter.
- 1
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Mirror, Mirror