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Natural Born Killer	By : ABoxFullOfSharpObjects Category: DC Verse Cartoons - Teen Titans > Het Views: 2038 -:- 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
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SO: There’s something wrong with this chapter. I know there is. I just can’t tell what yet. If you can spot it. Tell me. I’ll change it. This is what has taken me so long. This and college and computer problems. Let me tell you, Trigon isn’t the devil. English 101 is. Raven isn’t the devil’s spawn, Algebra is.
Also, it’s come to my attention that FF.NET was set default to not accept anonymous reviews. That wasn’t my intention. It’s fixed. Stupid technology...
Chapter track: Fighter – Christina Aguilera
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Most girls looked forward to their 16^th birthday.
After all, they were in the middle of high school, probably high up on the social ladder. Had capable parents and friends. Had people that would come and present them with gifts.
Their parties would have some type of pink design. Something to make them happy, as their day was all about them. Girls were so happy. Boys on the other hand, just got closer and closer to the legal age of getting into strip clubs and drinking without worrying about getting carded and using the right one...
The difference between them and me?
Right. I’m not normal. And here I thought you weren’t paying attention...
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So I’m staying here. In Hive. Letting Blood do what he wants to me, knowing that if I think about it too much, I’ll just get angry. And watching the minds of these young individuals get disturbed. Though, some of them are pretty much like that when they get here. Don’t get me wrong, not all of them are sunshine and Skittles.
At the least, I’m learning a few things. I know how to read and write. That much I learned from my childhood. Blood would pace around in front of the bed and spout on and on and on about random events in history. Kings, Queens, revolutions, tyrants and war. War was my favorite subject. When he spoke about war and revolution, he knew he had my attention.
My favorite historical figure to date is Ekaterina Alekseyevna. Sorry, let’s try that in American. Catherine II of Russia. She was great. She ruled despite her annoyance of a husband, and ruled even better with him out of power. She kept in contact with great minds around her, and helped the people.
Not so much though, after the lower-class rebelled. But hey, you get what you deserve.
She was so cool to me back then.
Partially because the guy that got her power was killed.
Not that that gave me any ideas...Well, none that I hadn’t thought of myself already.
Along with my educational training, I was also taught the proper way to fight. The way I moved now was wild and uncontrolled. I didn’t want to follow a form, I just wanted to kill whatever was right in front of me. That’s all. Get as much of their blood on me as I possibly could and make sure they didn’t move anymore.
But I learned more than I planned on learning for one very simple reason. Blood was teaching me how to fight. And that meant I got to fight him. As in, if I learned enough, I would be able to beat his ass and over power him. One day I would get out of him and he would not be able to stop me.
I was discovering my fondness for using small weapons, ones that can fit in your hand I mean, in weapons training. The sharp, yellow knuckle-enhancers that were designed for me were intended to protect my hands when I was hitting metal to test my strength in the lab. But Blood came to discover how much damage they could inflict when I cold-cocked him one with them on.
I liked having my weapon where I could get to it quickly. I liked them being small so they were light and didn’t weigh me down. I liked them powerful and versatile. I was a very mobile fighter. Many things that I learned, I had already known before, I just didn’t know I knew. I knew to keep moving, always, always keep moving. You can never be still. I knew that I hated blocking, and dodging, so countering became my defense. I also knew that if the enemy couldn’t attack, I wouldn’t have to defend.
If I could get powerful enough to keep attacking him before he got a good mental grip and didn’t have enough time to counter attack, I could beat him. I knew I could. I was a fast learner. Of everything when it came to a fight. Styles, defenses, weaknesses, favored moves, what a fighter does when they’re pressured, all of it.
I’m fairly sure he knew that I thought that. But he also knew how much to teach me and how much to keep to himself. He wasn’t that stupid. And I wasn’t exactly veiled in my hatred of him. There was just nothing I could do.
I just behaved myself. Did what he told me, without argument. He could do what he wanted with me. What would fighting prove? Just give him a reason to inflict more pain on me; which he seemed to enjoy more than what was fairly normal. But even bullies had a limit.
I figured he’d reached his by this year. His “ nightly activities “ had lessened to a great extent. In the beginning it had been at every opportunity. I swear it had. He said he was preparing me. The sooner I got used to “ him and his size “ the easier it would be on both of us.
I think I smell something. Do you smell that? Smells like–
BULLSHIT.
Fighting only lasted for so long. Being in the presence of other HIVE kids was only long enough. And his lectures were too damn long. Jesus. Why is it people say the most when they’re not saying a damn thing? Cripes. You’d think he’d learn to be a little less winded when he’s talking about important things so you just get the facts. But nooooooo. He has to have diarrhea of the mouth and run the fuck on...
The only kicker about that is sometimes he says something rather important somewhere in the middle of his bullshit. And if you agree before you find out what that is, you’re most likely screwed. Like I am. Repeatedly. The bastard.
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I remember it clearly the time I learned that lesson. Not that there was much I could do against him in any case. I was laying across the blood red bed of Brother Blood. Huh. Say that five times fast..
Anyway, it was my birthday. Rather, almost was my birthday. I didn’t know. I wasn’t that sure when my birthday was anymore. Blood counts the day he met me, says it’s my ‘ rebirth ‘. I just shrugged and ignored him. All he wanted was another excuse to call me his little girl.
That’s why I was surprised to find out there was a party being held for me in the lower levels of HIVE. The ones that weren’t accessible to everyone. Just some of the staff, Blood, of course, and some of the higher level and aged students.
Quite frankly, I didn’t have much to say when it came to the HIVE kids. Not to Blood or anybody. But, and this was what got me in trouble most of the time, I cared about those kids. They were my hive. But they didn’t ask to be there. Even the ones that have gotten used to it and think they like it. The ones that claim they want to be evil. None of them got to make the decision to do so by themselves.
My pheromones and his mind control...
Part of this is my fault.
This is why I can never abandon them.
Their souls are stained because of my reckless anger. If I hadn’t charged on him that one day, none of this would have happened. I would have died in a gutter somewhere and these kids would be in juvenile hall or a high school somewhere where they could be watched and dealt with accordingly.
But here they were. Under his control, tutelage and command. What they thought was freely, and what I knew was false. I could slap the hell out of one of them and scream that Blood was controlling them until my lungs got sore. They wouldn’t believe me. They wouldn’t even acknowledge what I said, just think I’ve been working too hard and send me to my room to rest.
Especially since the upper levels of HIVE are still under construction. We’re supposed to be getting a massive training area and so many rooms with automated weaponry.
But someone has to build them.
This again, was where I came in, apparently.
When Blood told me about the party, I couldn’t have cared less. I didn’t have a party before, what the hell should I have been excited for? These hormone-blinded people were giving me a celebration of my birth? Yeah, there’s something to be happy about. Whether you mean my birth or my ‘ rebirth ‘, neither one are occasions I care to place the emotions celebratory and happy anywhere near.
But there was something else he told me, that got my attention.
“ Do be nice to Mr. Rancid at your celebration my child. “
What the hell? It’s my party and I have to be nice to someone else? What kind of shit is that?
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I should have known. I really should have. I mean, I’ve known this man for 3 years, I should know better than to go with whatever her tells me and that’s it. I thought I would be smarter than this. I really did. Thought I would have more sense than to think such things.
But the fact remains that I wasn’t.
He was smarter than me.
And I fucking hated him for it.
If this were the street, I’d have his ass in a sling, hanging in an alley, dripping bloody warning to anyone who dared use me like that again. And he knew it. The hole in the boat, is that I think he likes that I’m dangerous. And the more he likes it, the more dangerous I become. The more dangerous I become, the more he likes it. Because, like it or not, he has control over me. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
At least, not yet.
One day, my time will come. And when it does, I’m coming down on him 3 different ways. Hard, fast, and fucking frequent.
As it is now...I...have to get ready to go on.
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I hate my life. I hate my life, my body, my mind, my abilities, my very existence. I can’t stand it. But unfortunately, I’m not allowed to die. Not now. Not while this hive is my responsibility. To leave them in his hands alone would make me the worst queen.
But then, as I continue to stay here, and they remain under my influence, it becomes a part of them, and they begin to believe these thoughts of evil are their own, am I really doing any better than he is? With me here, they think it’s there choice, with just him here, they would know it was just his.
Ugh. I don’t have time for this.
Do you know why?
Because I have to sing and dance in front of people.
Yeah. That’s what I said.
But if you look at it this way, it really makes quite a bit of sense. Not that I need another reason to hate that fucker. Because those aren’t going to be coming up short any time soon.
Blood sees it like this. Kids work all day and week, the weekend comes and they want to relax. Since they’re hardly allowed out into the world above us, something has to be made to cater to their needs. They need something to do with their energy before it builds and turns against him.
Now you can’t very well go and make a show of building something for the kids. None of us would ever use it. But if the kids don’t know it’s there and none of the faculty act like they know it’s there, then viola. A kid’s secret paradise. A place to hang out and veg.
And what better place to pump them full of my pheromones and expose them to the magnetic pull that makes a hive stick to their queen? I hate that he named this place with me in mind. I hate that he considers me in everything he does. But I digress...That’s what this place is for. The kids think they’re getting away from him and everything, when honestly, they’re just surrendering even more of their soul.
And I’m helping.
After all, what better way to make me seem like one of them than to be the one in charge of this place? They’d trust me then. See that I wasn’t just a puppet or their unattainable Queen. They’d get to see me in closed quarters and get the idea that this place, their fun was my idea. They’d be even more receptive to things done for me, but benefitting Blood personally, and their loyalty would remain strong.
He definitely knows what he’s doing. You gotta give him that.
But I won’t.
This is how it works...
There’s this floor of HIVE, right above his floor, that’s built differently. It’s built to look and all accounts be older than the other floors of this establishment. The elevators don’t even reach it. On purpose. So we’ve got an odd number of floors. Kids ask the teachers about it, teacher don’t know shit, because they’re told not to say anything.
There’s only the stairs to get to this floor. Well, the stairs to get down to it. Blood can take the elevator up. The stairs themselves that lead down to the level are built in three different places on center levels of the dormitories that you can’t get to otherwise. They’re in the upper-classmen levels, so you have to have juice to get here if you’re an underclassman.
Blood likes to call it, “ The Honeycombs”
He specifically told the architect to build it halfway and leave it like that until he finished the rest of the building. That which he was still doing, and needed help to finish doing.
The man that Blood had his eye on was going to be out in the crowd tonight. Jonathan Rancid. Sounds like a rock star’s name if you ask me, but people will name their kids what they want. Anyway, he’s supposed to be the best there is at mechanics and all things metal. So we have to sway Mr. Rancid into our favor.
That means I have to intoxicate him and make him agree to help without costing Blood too much. Although, if I have to do it, it means “ Daddy “ couldn’t make it work himself. That puts a smile on my face...
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Natural Born Killer