The sound of typing echoed around the room. The soft glow of the computer reflected in the diligent workers eyes as he tried to find out information. Each of them examining carefully each picture, ripping apart all the details, just to find out one answer…who and what is Slade? There were no flaws to find, no defect in his art. His current spree was perfect…each life more creatively taken by his doing. The only flaw that was apparent was that the men doing the researching. For their operation was secret. And most secrets are revealed.

"Did you find anything yet, Jack?" a man said to Jack who was on a computer.

"I only see dead bodies. They are all pretty much cleanly cut too. They appear to have the same wounds. In different places of course, but they are all the same," Jack replied, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"It's a start, and a crappy one at that, but a start to hopefully something greater. Try and measure the size of the wound or something," the man said, smoking his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth.

"I thought you said you quit, Harry?" Jack smiled.

"I did. I quit thinking I thought I would," Harry teased.

"Harry, this is ridiculous. There is nothing here. The only thing that is apparent is that this guy...Slade…is really good at what he does. Besides, it's nearing midnight, and I'm going home. See you guys at our real job tomorrow morning," A man protested, reaching for his jacket.

"Don't you want to rat this guy out? Turn him in? He's killed five people this week! What about next week, Bruce? Fifteen?" Harry pleaded.

"Listen, Harry. I'm tired of lying to my wife and kids. I have a family life too. See you guys later," a group of men, including Jack, all in unison said good-bye and Bruce left out the door.

"You guys want to get him right?" Harry turned to the rest.

"Sure boss," one guy said, slurping some soda.

"Oh come on, Ed. Have some enthusiasm."

"It's midnight, Harry. I think I've had enough enthusiasm."

The door creaked open, and chilling wind blew into the tiny room.

"The creep couldn't even close the door all the way," Harry said, very close to cursing. Harry shut the door, and puffed the cigarette again once more.

"Go outside and do that shit, man," another guy said. Harry blew the smoke right into the guys face and grabbed his jacket and walked outside not closing the door behind him.

"He tells us to do stuff that he doesn't even do. Some boss, eh?"

"Ha. Just put up with him. He'll like you then, Pete."

"He likes you though Jack, so you have nothing to worry about," Pete pointed out.

"I put up with him. I never said I liked him."

The door opened once again, and the frosty are whistled in again.

"Hey Ed, can you get that?" Jack asked.

"Sure," he complied. With his hand on the handle, he began to shut the door when a blade met with his fleshy face in-between his eyes and was pushed with relative ease through his skull. He dropped to his knees, and the holder of the blade took it by the handle and used his foot to push the body off the blade. The aggressor stepped over the limp body and into the small room, where the rest of the men were petrified and paralyzed with the fear that their lives were going to be over.

"It's…it's Slade!" Pete screamed, vocalizing his fear. The masked man, flung his blade, still warm with Ed's blood at him, and it stuck him in the side. The blade went into the body so only the handle was showing. Most of the blade was in the wall that Pete was pinned to.

"Ah! Ah, fuck!" Pete squirmed, trying to remove the sword, but it was useless. Slade walked over to Pete, and pulled the sword out, slowly, making sure to move the blade so the pain was unbearable. After it was removed from his body, Pete gripped the wound and gritted his teeth. Slade grabbed Pete's throat with his left and with minimal effort wedged the blade into his heart. Pete gasped for air, taking his last few breathes, and flopped lifeless to the ground. Slade turned around and eyed Jack, who was trembling. He saw the blood of his two co-workers glisten from the dim light of the computers. The thick red liquid was dripping from the point of the blade and was falling to the floor and landing silently in tiny pools. Slade wiped the lukewarm blood onto Jack's shirt. Jack's face was disgusted, but his breathing was light, and was very aware of his actions. He did not want to end up dead like his fellow workers.

"It's a shame the good always die young," he said, his voice deep.

He walked out the door and stepped over the bodies of Ed and Harry, rounded a corner pressed button. The building exploded, killing everyone inside. His job was complete.

-xXx

"What in all of God's glory were you thinking!" he screamed, his face turning a shade of red, "you are supposed to be discrete, and look at this: picture of a huge wreckage on the front page of the paper. You can not do these types of things and be recommended, Slade."

"I hid the fact that it was me doing it. At least give me credit for that, Al," Slade defended himself. Al sighed and rubbed his scruffy chin with his right hand.

"You are very good at what you do. In fact, you are the best there is. But causing this kind of havoc isn't good. One more mistake and you are done for, and on your own."

"I might work for you, but you still are under me. You tell me what jobs there are. Without me…you have no job. You better remember that, Mr. Hughes."

"Don't threaten me, or I will give you a bad name, Mr. Wilson." The phone rang in the background, and Al answered it. He became all wide-eyed and fumbled around for the remote to the television control. On the T.V. was none other than a breaking news story. Bruce Estner was on claiming he was in the building that night, and he worked for the same firm, and had a job position with all of those men. He claimed he was the last good lawyer for the firm.

"Out of all people alive…why did the president of the firm have to live!" Al cried, "You better get him finished with, you hear me?"

"I hear you. But just remember I'm the one with the aptitude for terminating, okay?" Slade curtly said, getting to his feet, and swiftly walking out of the door.

-xXx

"You overwork yourself into oblivion, Slade. Please just take tonight off," he suggested.

"What I do not finish tonight may be ten-folded tomorrow. I must do this job. He could very well have premeditated my attack tonight and already has security. This is the most known lawyer firm in all of Jump City. He let many people go free that should have been killed," Slade said, cocking his gun and strapping it to his hip.

"So you solve the problem by killing him?" he asked.

"Oh Wintergreen, do not question me. I am given a job and I do it."

"Than what side of the line do you find yourself? The good guy or the blood thirsty villain?"

"I stand in-between, where all the scum is filtered from crossing one side to the other. I am what people either lost or forgotten. I am the reincarnation of perplexed thoughts and mystery."

"There is such a place?" Wintergreen questioned.

"Some call it hell, I just call it home," Slade smirked as he clipped his mask on, into place, a mask of both death and salvation.

-xXx

Bruce Estner sat on the couch with a beer in his right hand, flicking through the channels in nothing more than his underwear.

"Alcohol won't wash away the regret of letting those people loose in the city, Mr. Estner."

Bruce looked in bewilderment behind him, and there stood the infamous Slade, in uniform with weapons at hand.

"How…how did you--?" Bruce stuttered.

"It's not how I came here, it's why I came here. You and your crappy band of lawyers have done enough damage." Slade said, sliding out is gun.

"I defended my client! I was a lawyer at the time, but now I'm a judge. It's a past issue--"

"That keeps reoccurring, Bruce. Almost all of them have become master villains. Easily slaying people for fun. I don't do that. Remember that," he said forcefully, placing the barrel of the gun to the back of his head, "I have a purpose."

"You killed five people in one week! Harry is --"

"Dead. He is no longer a problem for you. Just relax and you will feel the least pain as I take the life out of you."

"What? No…. Please, I have a family to raise!" Bruce cried.

"That's what they all say, and frankly Mr. Estner…I don't care." Slade squeezed the trigger and the bullet cut through the bone and brain with little difficulty, but was lodged in his forehead, the other side from where he was shot. The blood spattered, and drained out of the wound of Bruce's head. Slade saw his body fall limp and walked out of the room to only hear footsteps coming down the stairwell. He would need to find another way out.

"Oh my God!" a woman's voice cried, as she cradled the body of her dead husband, "no…NO!"

-xXx

"It's no secret your presence is known as a villain. You've slaughtered about fifteen people in one week. And from a few mishaps and idiotic entrances with your name, no one thinks that you are a good guy," Al sighed.

"I'm not a good guy, I never was," Slade said with his attitude very cocky.

"Yeah, well you never were the hero of any situation. Which is why I'm asking you to resign, Slade. I've got a new and upcoming star, she seems to have a pretty good knowledge of the art you have clearly mastered."

"What?"

"It's nothing personal--"

"Of course not. So why am I being fired for a job that I hired you to do?"

"You chose to work with me, and you assumed me the position one step higher than you. So shut your big ass mouth and listen to what I'm saying. You can take care of the jobs yourself. Start a one man business. I wish you the best of luck," Al said, extending his arm.

"Fuck no…fuck no. You are asking me to give up a job that I like because I am to good? No global or international fame?"

"You would be hunted constantly. It's a strenuous task."

"I've got eternity. Remember, I'm immortal?" Slade said with a smirk.

"Kill all the people you want, just not under my reign, okay?"

"I told you to remember my ability to kill people. I warned you, and in this game strike two, and you are out."

"What the--?" At that moment Slade took the laptop that was placed to the right of him and slammed it on top of Al's head, crushing his skull, and knocking him unconscious. But a dent in his victim's head didn't satisfy him the least bit. Murder was on his mind. A smile inched across his face as he planned it all out….

Al awoke with sharp pains in his head, and touched the soar area, and looked at his hand all covered in blood.

"The stupid bastard could have killed me," Al sighed, rising from his chair. He decided to go to the hospital to see if any extensive damage was done. Gritting his teeth from the pain he went into the small closet that held his coat and hat. Opening the door slowly with one arm, his mind on the other hand touching the wound, he didn't see it coming. The attack was perfect and clean, landing straight through his sternum and out his back. Almost being killed was no longer a comfort.

-xXx

He flipped through the papers, smiling at the main title of the front page for each newspaper. 'Where Did He Go?' one of them read, 'Where is Slade?' another questioned. The truth was, Slade had successfully disappeared from the public eye, but was still managing to slay many people without the news rapid through the city. But lately Slade was more interested in something, that to many would be considered just another building. But this wasn't any building, it was a building shaped like a "T". It had been three years since he first started to see construction, and it seemed to be done. It worried him greatly, because no building like that was erected in the middle of a bay.

"Slade, I think you will find what is on the television, quite interesting," Wintergreen stated in his very proper English accent. Slade turned on the T.V. with curiosity and found five, lanky teens.

"We promise to protect this city with the best of our abilities," the masked teen promised.

"Bullshit. With one attack from the villain who secretly ran this city for three years, you will be shown your place," Slade threatened towards the T.V.. Slade suited up fast, and readied his weapons with speed in excitement for bursting the teen's over confidence. With only taking order's from himself, Slade unknowingly sealed his fate with the teens when he decided to try and stop them. He knew from that moment on, what is within wasn't a lost soul trying to find a purpose on either side of the line. He was strictly a villain, and a pretty damn good one. But unfortunately for him, the teens were pretty damn good too.

"What do you call yourselves?" the female reporter asked, shoving the microphone at the masked teens face.

"The Teen Titans," he smiled.

Slade turned off the television and with a cocky and over confident attitude, went to go destroy the hopes of the team…the team that would later become famous for the only ones who could momentarily defeat him. Who will win eventually win? Well, that's for fate to know, and for you to find out.

A/N: First Slade one-shot…how did you like? Since this only is one chapter, please I beg of you to review! Thanks!