Luthor's Assassin

First Blood

He was training when Slade gave him the news.

Dick was sparring against one of Slade's robots, like he always did whenever Deathstroke was busy. Mercy was... supervising, that is to say, ensuring that Dick's training was coming along for Luthor. Once Dick had wondered what would happen if Mercy didn't find any progress, but he had never gotten the courage to ask.

Slade entered the room just as Dick was delivering a spinning kick to the robot's face, knocking it down to the ground. He had a bag slung over his shoulder. Dick sighed; it looked like Deathstroke had been called out on a contract. Not that he loved training, but he didn't really have anything else to do while Slade was gone.

Slade called him over and he obeyed, and he noticed that the bag was significantly smaller than the normal one he carried, and it was a slightly different shade of green. He looked at his trainer curiously.

"Do you have a contract today, Slade?" he questioned, not really expecting an answer, and was surprised when Deathstroke stopped and turned to face him.

"No," he mused quietly, and Dick felt his curiosity grow even more, "I don't."

"Then why-"Dick began, but Slade cut him off by throwing him the bag, which was significantly heavier than it looked.

"But you do."

Dick felt his blood run cold at Slade's words.

"You mean... I'm getting a contract?"

Deathstroke glared at him as an answer, tossing him a file.

"Their names are Jerold Hayden and Scott Elroy. They're American mob bosses known in Metropolis for their drug dealings and quick work when it comes to disappearing."

"And you want me too..." Dick made a sliding motion over his own throat, feeling slightly sick when Slade nodded at him coldly. "Why?"

"One of their competitors wants them out of the way." The mercenary's voice was emotionless and dangerous.

"I-I don't think that's a good reason to-"

"These are evil men, apprentice," Deathstroke snarled. "They deserve to die. And we've been hired to put them in their place, so you will."

Dick shuddered. Shooting a human-like target was one thing... but shooting a real person?

All life is sacred, little robin. Treat everyone with kindness and respect, and you'll find that kindness returned to you.

All life is sacred...

His mother's voice...

His voice trembled when he spoke.

"Slade... I don't think... I don't want to..."

A single grey eye narrowed dangerously, and Dick flinched involuntarily.

"You will, apprentice. You know what will happen if you don't." Deathstroke threatened, and Dick shuddered as a sniper rifle was pressed into his unresponsive hands.

Suddenly, Slade cocked his head as if listening to something, then brought a hand to his ear.

"Yes?" he growled out in a deadly tone, and Dick realized he was speaking to someone over a communicator. There was a slight pause, and then Deathstroke continued: "Excellent. The boy and I will be there shortly."

"Slade?" Dick asked, slightly confused, and the mercenary only glowered at him.

"Come, Renegade."

Dick flinched at the alter-ego name Deathstroke had chosen for him, then followed obediently towards the roof of Lexcorp.

_Break Line_