Smoke curled into the air like tiny perfect dancers before vanishing. The lulling sound of chanting murmured in the air, hanging thick like blood. A single drum continued its monotone beat in time to the watchers.

Some wore robes of blood red, others of deep indigo. Only a dark black shadow cloaking each person's eyes and mouth could be visible. They moved in lines of perfect obedience with their hands folded into their robes. Finally, the procession stopped and the robbed figures froze into place. The one beating on the drum halted his performance and bowed his head low.

The one in the front stood on the podium and stretched out a hand. His black and gold robes defined him as the leader of their group. His posture was tall and slim, he had the air of one used to authority and control. Instead of a hooded head like the others, a gray skull mask was fitted over his own head. In a low voice, he began to speak to the crowd. His words curled into the smoke, flitted into the ears of the minions who listened in complete rapture. They drank in the words, nodding their hooded heads in obedience to his every command and wishes. The man beating on the drum finished the meeting with a thunderous chorus in time to the robbed figures chanting. Finally, they assembled out of the massive room and left.

Once the ceremony was over, the slim man placed his hands under his chin and pushed the mask back up. He fixed his eyes on the others.

"I have been waiting a long time for this," said the first man, the one that had given the speech.

"And I, even much longer," said the second man in a deep bottomless voice. He was was powerfully built with iron-clad fists that could easily crush rocks. His black-and-orange mask was split in half; a shattered soul. One eye leered out like a hawk. He had no mouth, only slits between the metallic mask to breath, making him look more like a machine than a man. Poised like a well-trained soldier, he strode up to the podium and peered over.

"This is the Lazarus Pit that you have been talking about?" he demanded. Below them, a bubbling vat wide as a small lake was glowing like pure melted gold. The pit was filled to the brim with a simmering red mixture, mingling in with the gold flecks as it frothed around in spiraling circles.

An ignorant person would presume it was lava. The H.I.V.E knew better than that.

The powers of the Lazarus Pit could manifest into the minds of its victims and force their worst nightmares to come alive. It could turn enemies into their slaves and minions; make the most courageous of all men melt into groveling cowards.

"Yes, and thanks to your generous assistance, it will be perfect for the first sacrifice very soon."

The second masked man gave a gruff sound and shrugged his shoulders. "Superstitious tales," he muttered. "Nothing more than airy tales that became too large for legends."

"Rest assured that the Lazarus Pit is no myth, Deathsroke," the skull-masked man said, waving a finger in the air. "You yourself know about the supernatural powers that can be harnessed even in this fragile human world. We would not dare let anyone less worthy witness the justice that will be brought soon enough."

"Understand that I am not one to be trifled with," the man dubbed Deathstroke. "Scientific and supernatural methods are usually best kept separate." He strode to a massive screen set on one end of the cavern and clicked on the keyboard with long leather clad fingers.

"However. . . ."

Colorful images danced across the screen; mundane physical delights that disgusted the leader. They showed people laughing, talking, eating, dancing in parties and running in parks.

The scenes began to change. Five young people, clad in a rainbow of colors, attacked in different styles like a rehearsed dance. They took pride in their work, their own crusade against the many hooded and masked people in the room.

"We share a common enemy," Deathstroke said.

His single glittering black eye was fixed sharply on one of the teenagers on the screen: a young man in a bright uniform of red and green. Twirling a fighting staff around his head, he attacked a robber on the screen. A confident smile flashed on his face just before the screen went black.

"'My enemy's enemy is my friend,'" quoted the skull masked slim man. "And you yourself have mastered some of those techniques, have you not? The citizens of that sniveling little city saw your fire monster that you created some time ago."

"It was nothing extravagant. The monster died at the first cloudburst of water," Deathstroke said dryly. "All of my minions have failed and crumbled into the ground like dust." He raised a clenched fist into the air. "All except one."

"I'll get you your precious apprentice back," the other man sneered. He waved his arms and his robes swept across the ground like massive hawk's wings. "And they will all pay for their heinous crimes against us."

He began to storm out, his billowing golden cape following behind. He paused and turned back to Deathstroke, his skull mask tucked under one arm.

"May I ask how the hallucination powder worked?" he inquired.

"Most excellent, I assure you," Deathstroke said in a pleased tone.

The screen flickered back on. Again, the same teenagers were on the screen. But no longer were they rushing around with zest and delight in the rush of action. They were standing in a deserted looking warehouse, wasted over with rusted metal and scraps of machines lying in cluttered heaps. Their faces were solemn and serious as they looked at the masked boy, who's uniform was in tatteres and his body covered in bruises. He was yelling at them in a voice that was high with terror.

"Are you sure you saw," one of his teammates began to say.

"I know what I saw!" the masked boy screamed. "I have to stop him, I'm the only one who can." He brandished a small weapon. "I'll take down anyone who gets in my way."

There was a flashed of green light and he crumpled to the ground. Another teammate had blasted him from the back with her own powers. She looked down at her injured friend, shaking her head slowly. The masked boy groaned weakly and looked up at his friends. "I am sorry" the girl said softly.

The screen went black. Deathstroke removed his own helmet and the smile of amusement curled on his lips.

"Heh heh heh," Deathstroke began to chuckle lowly. Slowly, his laughter began to grow stronger like a rising storm. The rumbling noise of an earthquake or disaster was growing off in the distance. He was amused and pleased with the results. No longer would suspicions be masked in the dark. He anticipated the danger that was coming ahead.

"Ha ha ha!" The cruel laughter rose higher until it reached the top of the cavern walls, echoing madly and sending chills down the spines of the onlookers. It carried itself all the way across the bay area to where the citizens of the city dwelled.

A-A-A

The spiraling lights were making Robin dizzy. He blinked and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the brilliant hot white lights. Glancing down, he noticed he was positioned on a small platform. Canvas yellow tent material surrounded him and at his feet, throngs of people were gathered.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," came a cheery blaring voice from a microphone. "Live for the very first time, the amazing Boy of Wonder, live from Jump City, leader of the Teen Titans. . . . ROBIN!"

The thunderous applause didn't relieve Robin in the least bit. To the contrary, his stomach was twisting upside down with confusion. He peered over the side and realized he was at least thirty feet above ground and a trapeze bar was swinging over his head.

Down below, the Titans were sitting in their seats and waving to him.

"You go Rob!" Cyborg shouted. Beast Boy put two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Even his best friend was there, clutching a wad of cotton candy and looking up at him with fascination. "You shall be glorious!" Starfire beamed, waving a hand happily.

"What?" Robin stuttered. The trapeze bar swung in front of his face and he automatically grabbed it. "Witness the greatest acrobat of them all as Robin defies death in the ultimate thrill!" the ringmaster yelled.

"Wait, there's been a mistake!" he shouted down to his friends. They only clapped and cheered some more as the drum roll began. Doing what was coming natural to him, Robin gripped the bar and took a deep breath. He knew this pattern. He knew the tumbling feeling and the twisting of his body in midair.

And he flew.

The audience "ooohed" and "ahhhed" as Robin soared through the air, his heart pounding madly and his hands getting sticky inside of his gloves. It was exhilarating yet terrifying. He was about to boost himself onto the platform when his eyes made contact with a mettalic mask.

"Hello, Robin."

Slade stood there on the other platform, arms folded across his chest and standing still as a statue. Robin's body was paralyzed with shock. Unable to move or attack, his arms turned to jelly and his fingers started to slip. He felt himself losing his grip on the wooden bar and he shut his eyes. Adrenaline pumping into his veins, Robin's hand slid off the bar and he was falling, falling, falling...

"Do something!" His instincts had kicked in, commanding him to take action. Wrestling with his utility belt, Robin fired a cable and watched the batterang wrap itself around a metal beam. He clung to the end of the cable and swung to safety.

But now the circus tent was gone and he was standing on top of a roller coaster ride. Peering over the edge, Robin shuddered at the labyrinth of metalwork that curved up and down like a winding snake. "Most children aren't scared of circuses," he heard Slade's voice behind him. Robin whirled around and nearly lost his balance; the two of them were at the peak of the roller coaster ride.

"Yet you seemed terrified of this place," Slade remarked in a taunting voice. "Did something terrible happened here?"

The Boy of Wonder slammed his feet into the metal, forcing himself to skid down the metal tracks. The rims of his steel-tipped boots began to glow red from the heat and sparks spurted out, but he kept rushing and rushing further down.

He jumped off the roller coaster and ran into the Haunted House. Robin began to take steps backwards, his eyes scanning for Slade. His back bumped into a large box abruptly. "WA HA HA HA!" a bright screaming laugh broke the silence. A monstrous white head jumped out from the box and banged into Robin's face; an oversized bright red grin and lime green hair accompanied the ferocious looking clown.

"I'm not afraid!" Robin shouted, shoving the head of the Jack-in-the-Box out of his face. "If you are not scared, then why do you keep running?" the shrill clown's mouth moved and asked him. Robin continued to run, slamming his feet into the ground and making his legs move as fast as he could.

Too fast.

His feet gave way and he slipped, landing painfully on his right arm in a large glittering sheet of crystal ice. Several penguins were sliding on the ice, completely ignoring him. Wincing at the throbbing pain, Robin weakly forced himself to get up. He edged slowly off of the ice on his hands and knees.

Clowns? Ice? Games? Penguins? Nobody else knows about this part of my life. . .

"I know what haunts you, Robin, and it all comes together in one complete circle." Slade's taunting voice was right behind him.

"Stop!" Robin scrambled to his feet and dashed down a grotto. The glittering quartz stalactites were being swallowed up into darkness so thick that Robin could almost touch it. And yet he could hear something far off in the distance, a rushing sound like the wind or the rustle of trees.

Hundreds of leathery wings flew into Robin's face, blinding him. He waved his hands madly and tried to shield himself with the cape, but it was no good. Tiny shrill sounds were all in his ears, bats nipping and clawing at him. Then he saw someone looming not too far off. Not Slade, but someone else. A black flowing cape caught in the back of Robin's mind.

He knew who it was and ran towards the tall figure, anything to get away from the villain who tormented Robin's mind-

POW!

Robin was struck across the face with a clenched fist. He was sent sprawling back into the stone walls where he collapsed in a heap. The salty taste of blood was filling up his mouth and trickling down his face.

"You dared to call me a father?" the shadowy figure growled. Shifting halfway into the murky pool of light, the emblem on his chest was becoming more visible. "You are a disgrace to me. Everything I ever taught you, you threw away."

He pointed a finger at Robin in accusation. "You chose to pursue your enemy instead of protecting your team. You have failed me, Robin."

The boy was thunderstruck. Never had he been rebuked so harshly by his teacher. In the past there had been times when he had chided Robin but had never spoken such harsh words or spoken in such angry tones. Now he loathed Robin.

"No, please, you don't understand," Robin protested, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "I know I've made mistakes, I know I was crazy to run off like that."

"And you call yourself a leader," the Dark Knight went on. "When you can't even take care of yourself, you pathetic little boy!" he finished in a roar.

Robin felt sick to his stomach. A sharp sting pierced his eyes, pricking heated needles into his skin.

"You're not going to cry, are you? That's all I ever get for my troubles: a sniveling little coward."

"Why are you doing this? You've never said things like this before!" Robin insisted. "I may not be your sidekick anymore but I still-"

"-still think I can respect such a worthless excuse?" Twin slits in his mask narrowed at Robin's face.

"I was never your father. Never was and never will be. You're not worth being mentored."

The words dropped into Robin's stomach like heavy stones, weighing him down. The cloaked man nodded to some people in the shadows. One by one, the Titans appeared at Batman's side. But like him, their own faces were twisted with hatred as they glared at Robin.

"Titans, please!" Robin called out, stretching a hand to them "Just give me a chance, I swear!"

"You don't trust us," Raven said. "Why should we trust you?" Cyborg added. Without a word, they all stepped backwards into the shadows. Robin dragged himself on his hands and knees, a shaking hand reaching out. But it was too late. They were gone. Only the twittering sound of bats and the dripping of water were heard.

"They have forsaken you, Robin," taunted a face behind him.

"It can't be true," he said in defense.

"Robin, return to join me. I will show you the way you deserve to go."

"I don't want to follow you!" Robin yelled out, his voice echoing in the cave.

"Then why do you keep chasing me?" Slade demanded. Robin was certain that he was smirking behind his mask. He grabbed Robin by the shoulder.

"STOP!" Robin screamed, his hands still straining out to the grotto.

A-A-A

A thin slice of moon winked its luster into the boy's sleepy eye. Blinking back from the dreams, he lifted his head off the pillow and looked out of the window. The night was cool and clear, the moon resting in its own deep dark bed studded with stars for the night.

Robin reached for his mask and carefully fit it over his own eyes. He pushed back his comforter and stood up, stretching his limbs. He turned on a light and let the yellow color flicker across the room. Leaning over his desk, the teen examined his work.

Robin shoved all of the papers aside until he had found the file he was searching for. His gloved fingers trembled slightly as he lifted up the cover and glanced at the material inside. It contained information that the Titans would be left in shock. Maybe that's why he didn't tell his teammates.

The gears were turning in his head as he pieced the dream together: the trapeze act, Joker, Penguin. Mr. Freeze.

Robin shuddered and rubbed the back of his neck.

Starfire. The Titans. Betrayal. Failure.

Slade.

Batman.

They must have known he was off his rocket when Cinderblock broke out. Robin regretted lashing out at them, especially for snarling at Starfire. Finger pointing, accusations, and name calling were all what children did. Robin wanted to be something more than that. He wanted to prove himself worthy of his team. He wanted to find his own way without having to rely on his mentor, yet somehow have his mentor's approval. And more than anything, he wanted to bring Slade down.

But his ambitions would have to wait for the time being.