Hello everyone! This is my first FanFic so go easy on me! Just wanted to let you all know that this and the first chapter WILL be quite short, but trust me you'll be in for a read after you get past those two. Also I will try my best to update weekly, but I can't make any promises! Except that I DO promise that this story WILL have an ending so feel free to follow! Reviews are more than welcomed! Enjoy!

He sat in the center of the shadowy realm that he resided in, allowing himself to be swallowed in darkness while deep in thought. Slade never really minded the dark; in fact, he welcomed it. To him it was his canvas, he felt that his already highly intelligent mind would relish in the nothingness so he could paint and plot with his thoughts. Unfortunately, that's what his days had consisted of lately, plotting.

After he regained his flesh and blood from the inter-dimensional demon, Trigon, he had discovered that his body needed time to recover properly. Deciding that it would probably be best, he rode the bench and watched as his favorite group of teen heroes vanquished the Brotherhood of Evil and go across the world to take down a foreign threat, while he regained his strength. He was quite impressed with how the Titans had handled the Brotherhood, and as the team grew stronger, he did as well.

Months had gone by and he had finally been exercising and weight lifting at the same peak he had before his deathly ordeal with his apprentice gone wrong, Terra. His agility had started to return along with the final touches of his muscle tone. For months he sat back, for months he built from the ground up, and for months his life had been nothing but organizing his thoughts and thinking of every potential outcome to every possibility that could be portrayed.

Though he was no stranger to planning out his actions, his inactive status had lasted longer than any plotting he'd ever done, and he was beginning to grow impatient. Enough was enough; now is the time to spring back into action and haunt their dreams. So there he sat, wallowing in the shadows of his domain with his head resting on his fist, thinking. Eyeing the darkness as pictures from his imagination began to fill in the void with each phase of his plan that was dissected carefully. The concentration was broken when he heard the sound of metal being rustled somewhere behind him, he knew that it could only be one his robotic minions that he sent off to collect a few supplies to jumpstart his plot.

With a sigh, he rose to his feet and clapped his hands, switching on the lights, and spoke without turning his head, "Report." He said smoothly.

Nothing.

Finding it odd, that his creations didn't respond to him immediately, he restated himself more firmly, "Report." He said again, only to be succeeded by silence.

Something just wasn't right about his minions not responding to their only leader. He turned around to see what the ordeal was, but stopped before he could even start his walk over when he saw the last thing he thought he'd ever see. There his five minions stood, faces altered, and he knew that the change was the trademark of only one disturbed man.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he said, narrowing his only eye.

Slade started his walk over to the one that stood more in front than the others to watch a playback on the screens behind the faces, knowing that his robots always recorded events whenever they were sent on missions so he could study the film for his benefit. Standing in front of the minion, he opened its face and was greeted with a jack jumping right out of the crater. This hardly startled Slade, but his theory of who was behind this was becoming more and more clear, and that would be a problem if it was true. The last thing he needed was someone who wasn't in their right mind to start making waves around the city. The jack bounced a few times on its slinky, its white face with red lips and green eyes looking eerily at Slade, before exploding.

Slade was sent flying back as the blast took out all the minions, he was starting to become rather annoyed. Lying on his back still, he could hear maniacal laughter in the distance. It was at first faint, but with each passing second its volume grew, till it sounded as if the laughter surrounded him. He sat up and began to rise to his feet, shifting into a fighting stance, prepared for whatever nuisance was going to be sent at him.

His attention was directed to his large TV screen, it had turned on by itself. He rotated to see what could possibly be displayed on the screen, and froze at the sight that was before him.

A Joker card.

The laughter erupted after he saw the latest programming, and to any other person it would have made their skin crawl. Slade's theory was confirmed, he was not scared of this man but he knew a threat when he saw one.

"Why are you here?" He said very grimly.

Slade listened as the laughter tried to calm itself down so it could respond.

"Just paying an old friend a visit." The ominous carefree voice replied.

"I'm not your friend."

"True." The voice said, "but you are friends with an old pal of mine, and I think I want him and his bunk buddies all to myself."

Slade wasn't given a chance to respond when he heard beeping from the TV screen, it began at an easy pace and started to quicken. His eye widened as he started to make a feeble attempt at running for the exit. He wasn't even close before his body was engulfed in flames.

Meanwhile, a purple figure sat on the edge of a building with his legs dangling, smiling mischievously at the sudden burst of flames that came from beneath the building that was in front of him.

He licked his lips and slicked his green hair back with his hand, "You should smile more often, Deathstroke."

He rose to his feet before straightening his purple vest, then looked out into the ocean and observed the giant yellow T that sat not far from the city. His smug smile never relented as the gears in his head spun after the sprouting of the seeds to his plan.