The Titans are forced to take in a young, british private eye after saving him from what appears to be his double.
A young man, wearing a trench coat and hat, long, dirty blonde hair, and a darker goatee, trudged through the snow, his walking boots wet and cold from the distance. His pace was fast and clumsy. The fear in his eyes proved that he was running from something. He was nearing the famous city square. He had no general direction. He just had a single objective. To hide.
As he progressed, some form of dark energy hit the snow behind him, causing the white powder to form a pillar behind him. The boy fell forward, only to struggle and get back up again. His predator, similar in height and build, was the one who fired the blast. He lowered his arm and walked on. He was virtually weightless on the snow, and simply walked after his prey than run. It was as if it were too easy. He wore a black suit and tie, with a white shirt and black sunglasses, and the same hair and goatee that the boy had. The grace in his step, the manner of his dress and the serious look painted on his features suggested that who ever employed him, who ever raised him and whoever his parents were collectively created a mix between Mr. Smith, an Elf and a Men in Black operative all in one.
Raising his hand again, he created a fist, and an even more powerful blast of Ebon energy launched from his hand, and created a sizeable crater in the snow to the left of his target. The boy in question managed to keep his balance, covering his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. After a second or two, he lowered his hand and continued to stumble on. This repeated a few times before the boy managed to reach the square.
The circle of buildings that surrounded the empty expanse of concrete was masked by the snow, reflecting the light of the street lamps and creating a very short field of vision. The cold was beginning to take effect, and the boy’s energy was starting to fade. He desperately looked around. To find his pursuer, but to no avail.
To generate a fear only seen in movies, the suited man had taken to the shadows, enveloping his being into a mass of dark energies. He simply stood and watched as his prey started to tire from the cold.
The boy managed to reach a stone monument, a pillar like object, which was situated in the centre of the square. Resting for a while, the boy leaned against the monument and heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, a chance to rest. However, he couldn’t sleep, as the cold would kill him if he even rested his eyes. However, it was getting harder and harder to keep them open. Everything was becoming blurred. It was at this point that his attacker materialised infront of him, a cold, hard stare piercing shot in his direction from the agent’s glasses.
“Why…?” the boy struggled to say
“It’s my job to take down scum like you,” the young man stated. His voice a clone of the boy’s, “now stop being a nuisance and let me kill you.” He gathered the strange energy in his right arm, and reared up for a punch. The boy tried to find the energy to throw his own punch. He toppled forward and merely tapped the young man. The suited man shoved the boy onto the ground and turned to meet his target. The boy shivered in the freezing cold. Icicles had formed on his goatee.
The boy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a light blue crystal. The stone was flimsy, and the boy crushed it in his hand. With the same hand, he made a swing for his double and missed. Before the suited boy could laugh at the attempt, an arm of ice was swiftly formed from the snow and landed a bitter punch in the clone’s jaw. The clone was flung far, which would have been helpful, but the attack had drain what was left of the young man’s strength, and he slowly slipped into unconsciousness. His cloned pursuer stood and elegantly brushed the snow off his suit. Then, without flinching, cracked his jaw back into its original location. He trudged over to his target with a quickened pace, now wishing to end this charade in an incredibly brutal fashion. However, a new obstacle had arisen. In, what seemed to be the blink of an eye, a group of young heroes formed a living blockade between the agent and the boy.
“Back off,” stated the supposed leader, now wielding a bo-staff. The agent smiled
“The Teen Titans. It’s amazing to see how this rabble of young heroes could still be alive,” he retorted, slowly being enveloped by his strange energies, “fair enough. I don’t want this to end too quickly. Have your criminal, he will soon perish by my hands.”
And with that, the agent was enveloped by the mysterious energy and evaporated.
I remember doing this a while ago. In a bid to get this story off the ground, I’ve decided to continue with this.
In record time, the next chapter should be up in a few mi